


Inmates

by not_poignant



Category: Mysterious Skin (2005)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Canon Related, Child Abuse, Dysfunctional Relationship, Future Fic, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, Past Abuse, Prostitution, Rape Recovery, Sexual Abuse, Suicidal Ideation, What are you doing guys?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-23 12:22:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 75,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_poignant/pseuds/not_poignant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the prison of the mind, could it be possible to heal? Where do the similarities and differences lie between Neil and Brian, and is there more between them than the bond of their past? Brian is drawn to Neil and Neil finds himself unable to shake the dogged persistence of someone he is reluctant to call a friend, let alone anything else. Follows the course of their lives after the events of Mysterious Skin (the film).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a 17 chapter fic that has gone through some editing since its original posting up at FF.net (it needed it!) Please read the warnings. Standard disclaimers apply - not mine, do not own, just entering the world for a little while!

When Brian checks himself into therapy, Neil avoids him for a while. He thinks he's stupid, weak and cowardly, and a whole lot of other invectives he saves for when he's in Eric's presence (Eric, the long-suffering, absorbs the insults but never agrees). At the same time, he wonders what Brian talks about in those sessions, and wonders why he doesn't feel the same need to spill his guts about it.

But then, it's almost like he can't talk about it at all. With anyone. Except that time with Brian, Christmas Eve, when he hurt all over and just wished the intermittent bleeding from his ass would stop. That was awful. He didn't know anyone could shake like that. It scared him, and after that, shit, he wasn't going to go look for reasons to talk about it again.

After all, most of it was his fault anyway.

________________________________________

About two months after that Christmas, Brian visited him, walked into his room like he had been an old family friend. Neil watched him. He’d been clean of tricking and hooking up with strangers at bars and at parks and his life had been a wash of aimlessness. He couldn't go back to New York, and Wendy seemed to understand. He didn't though. Not really.

'What the fuck do you want?' he deadpanned. Brian shuffled, flustered. He moved his glasses up his nose, combed his hair down with his fingers. Neil realised that when he did that, he couldn’t see his eyes properly. A moment later, he realised it was probably deliberate. 

'Y-you've had sex,' Brian said, and after a pause, Neil threw him a single nod of agreement. He’d had a lot of strange conversations in his life and he already knew that this was going to be one of them. 

'I haven't,' Brian said.

'So?'

'With anyone. I haven't been able to. Haven't wanted to.'

'And?' Neil was deliberately making it hard for him. He didn’t know why. God knew the kid had been through enough. Brian glared at him, folded his arms defensively. 

'I don't get why so many people w-worship you.'

'Me either,' Neil said with a smirk. The kid’s jaw clenched. Except Brian was 19 now, and Neil told himself that he needed to stop thinking of him as a kid. It wasn’t right. 

'I've never...' Brian trailed off then, he wiped at his nose and checked the back of his hand, and Neil suddenly felt like he got it. He understood. That gesture told him that Brian was going to say something that was really hard for him to say. Neil stood up abruptly and walked to his bedroom window, placed his hands behind his head, tried not to pay any heed to the fears that coiled up in his gut. You never knew with Brian – Eric even said so – the little shit. 

'I've never um, jacked off before.' His mouth was awkward around the words, and Neil looked at him sidelong, once, before looking back out the window. He was shocked.

'What. Ever?'

'Ever. No.'

'The shrink put you up to this shit?'

'No. I just don't get why you get to be the one who gets to...do what you do with people, and I'm stuck like this.'

'You want, what, tips or something? You're not even queer.'

'How would I know?' Brian said, absently picking things up on Neil’s table. Worn baseball cards, old pens, a postcard from Wendy. Neil watched him for a minute and then felt frustrated and cornered. He walked forwards and grabbed Brian hard by the wrist, hard enough that Brian winced. Brian looked at him, bewildered, and Neil let go and stepped back. 

'Sorry, man,' Neil said, feeling really sick now, like he was going to throw up.

'You need help, Neil. It wasn't your fault,' Brian said, and Neil felt himself jerk, all over. Like he'd just been hit. He turned slowly, angry and running his hand down his face.

'Shit,' he said, unable to think of any other response. And then he walked out of his own room, his own house. Anything to get away from the kid who looked like a fucking pushover, who was probably stronger than Neil would ever be. 

________________________________________

Two weeks passed, and Neil still felt really shaken up. He was having his own nightmares now, which made him punch the pillow in anger. He loved Coach, loved him. This shouldn't be happening. His brain and body were betraying him. And sometimes he had nightmares about his last john and that was even worse. Because man, he thought he was going to die that night. And sometimes when he woke up, aching from phantom pains, missing the Coach, hating the whole fucked up world, he wished that he had.

Eric told him that Brian talked to him sometimes about sexuality, about men, and Neil scoffed at him. But he thought about it later. He thought about it a lot. 

He tried to imagine a life where he had never jacked himself off, and he just _couldn't._ He told Eric as much, and Eric laughed in disbelief, and then looked all worried.

'What did that guy _do_ to you both?' he said, and Neil rolled his eyes and pushed down his agitation whenever the subject came up. He absolutely did not say that he was starting to wonder the same thing.

________________________________________

Brian came back to his house. Neil let him in because his mom was out and because Brian had a way of simply walking past someone when he was determined. He walked into Neil’s room without even looking back. And Neil thought, _here we go again._

'How many times did Coach do what he did to you?' The first words out of Brian's mouth, and Neil turns to him, wide-eyed and feeling betrayed by this. This gentle kid who looked like he could be blown over with one breeze. And he's standing there with this _look_ on his face. Focus. Stubbornness. Whatever.

'That summer,' Neil said, feeling expansive and generous for even offering that much. 

'How many times?'

'I don't fucking know, do I? More than twice. More than what you got. I told you. I was his...' He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. 

'Prize. You were his prize.' Brian said, with a gentleness that was so unexpected that Neil turned away and pressed a fist into his stomach. Brian was like poison, coming over, doing this to him. Neil thought, _I’m going to kick him out, right now._ But he didn’t. He just stands, fist to his stomach and breathing, reminding himself to keep breathing.

'It's not as easy for you as you make it out, I get that now,' Brian said then, tone neutral. 'I didn't like you for a little while. For about a month. After that Christmas. I couldn't... I didn't understand. And I was humiliated. No one's ever seen me broken down l-like that. One person, and it was different. I hide that side of me pretty well.'

'What about the shrink?'

Brian didn’t reply and Neil took it to mean that he was the only one who had witnessed the full extent of those violent tremors, the writhing muscles trying to burst out of his skin, the backbone of steel that lurked amongst all the fear, that backbone that had inevitably gotten them out of the house. It was that backbone that had helped Neil out of the window the second time, because he was too dazed to even remember how to leave.

'I really don't like you,' Neil said then, though there was no passion behind the words. And he looked at Brian, who was nodding with what Neil saw to be understanding. It made him cringe. He didn’t want to be pitied and he certainly didn’t want to be pitied by Brian.

'I know. I remind you of it. I don't let you forget. I won't,' he said then, with a firmness that was surprising. 'I'm not going to let you think that p-person loved you for _you_. Any _love_ he had was for your body, and your vulnerability, and the fact that your parents were never home to protect you. And that you were so desperate for someone to pay any attention to you, that you-'

Neil hit him. It wasn't even a punch. It was an open slap. It wasn't even that hard. Brian steadied himself on Neil's table, and then had the audacity to _smile_ at him. And then he left.

Neil was left dazed again. Floored. He had no idea what to do. For the rest of the week, he had no idea.

________________________________________

Another two weeks passed. This time Neil was smart enough not to let him in. He stood in the doorway and just shook his head.

'No way,' he said, and Brian just pushed him backwards, two hands on his sternum. He didn't even push that hard. And Neil just went with it, out of the way, pliant. Brian walked in with his stupid backpack, his stupid diary, and sat in the lounge like he belonged there just as much as Neil did.

'If you fucking talk about that summer, I swear I'll...' Neil can't finish the sentence, he has no idea what he'll do, actually. He had already hit the geek, after all, and that did nothing. Brian shook his head, and pulled out a video. It was one of those b-grade horrors that Eric liked. And Neil realised that Eric, the eyeliner bandit has struck again. He’d won someone else over with his charms. For a moment he even experienced jealousy, because he knew Eric and Brian as a duo probably got along better than Eric and Neil ever did.

Neil sat down on the sofa, as far away from Brian as possible. It wasn't very nonchalant, but didn’t need any more stress this week, and the closer he got to Brian, the more he remembered Brian’s ability to bring up confronting topics without thinking twice. But Brian didn’t confront him, he simply pushed the video into the VHS player, and took charge of the remote controls like he really had lived there. Then he pulled two chocolate bars out of his backpack and handed one to Neil. Neil took it and put it down on the coffee table, confused. 

They watched the movie, and he actually started to get into it. They laughed at the awful special effects, and at one point they went from yelling at the screen in unison, to falling back on the couch together. It was actually kind of companionable. Neil got into that as well, and then before he knew it, he was having a good time. 

Afterwards, Brian looked at his watch and said that he had to get home. And like that, he left. 

Neil realised that they barely said more than two sentences to each other.

________________________________________

A significant amount of time passed, and then Neil shocked himself when he asked Eric where Brian lived. And then when he actually asked Eric to drop him off at Brian’s, Eric was shocked as well. And then amused; even laughed at him and joked about how Neil has a crush and everything. Neil didn’t know what to say to that, so Eric, eyebrows raised, said: 

' _Do_ you?'

'Are you kidding?' Neil said.

'Yeah, that's what I thought,' Eric said, but his expression as he drove Neil to Brian's, wasn’t so sure. It didn’t end up mattering, Brian wasn’t home, and Neil – on the drive home, absently joking with Eric – felt strangely disappointed. 

________________________________________

'Eric thinks you have a crush on me.' These were the first words out of the blonde geek’s mouth as he walked in the door, videos and chocolate in hand, scruffy backpack, the diary. Neil just watched; wary and a little scared. This was alien territory to him. He never had any idea what Brian was going to say next. 

'Hey,’ Neil heard himself say, ‘I'm sorry I hit you. Like. Ages ago.'

'I was expecting worse!' Brian laughed, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Neil blinked. 'So do you have a crush on me?'

'Not my type,' Neil muttered, and Brian's expression sobered.

'Do you even know what your type would be, I mean, if you didn't model all of the guys you were attracted to on your one, lost love?'

'Fuck you,' Neil said, stung at the ease with which Brian had said that. And Brian simply shrugged.

'Therapy could help you, you know.'

'Like I need it.'

'Yeah. Because it's so normal for kids to fist their baseball coaches.'

'Jesus,' Neil said, suddenly goosebump-cold, 'do you _ever_ shut up!' He could hear his breathing and it disturbed him. He tried to make himself calm down. He clenched his fists and turned away and tried to go to the blank place that used to be such a good friend of his.

He jerked when he felt a hand placed on his shoulder. Brian was close behind him. The hand was tentative, light, no full weight behind it. And then a brief squeeze before he let go and went back to the videos, sorting through them and holding one up. 

'This one?' He said. Neil just stared at him.

'Why the fuck are you doing this to me?' Neil said, and Brian put the video down and sighed. He was staring through the VHS case. When he looked up, his face was grim and sad all at the same time.

'I don't know. Because I'm not normal?'

'But why _me?_ ' 

'You were there, weren't you? Telling me to say I liked it. Not really liking it yourself.'

'I don't know why I keep letting you in,' Neil said then. 'Some fucking kid who hasn't even jacked himself off. I mean come on, what's with that? You don't have to think about anything while you do it. If that's the problem. Just...'

'Do what you do? Pretend it's not happening? Think of the Coach and pretend it's him instead? Pretend like you liked it?'

'I _did_ like it,' Neil said, cocky, and had a moment to wonder what calm thing Brian would say, only to find himself violently shoved backwards into the wall. He had a moment to think, _stronger than I thought_ , before:

'You LIAR! I get that you liked some of it, you probably had to say that to yourself to survive it. But you didn't really _like_ it. No one's ever fucked you who wasn't using you for something, have they? You have _no idea_ what you like. You idiot!' Another shove for good measure, and Neil accidentally bit his tongue. He launched himself away, to go to his room, but Brian grabbed his sleeve and wouldn't let go.

'Christ!' Neil shouted, yanking his arm back to his own body. 'You're not _my_ goddamned shrink. Why are you doing this to me?'

Brian placed both of his hands over his face. It was a surprisingly vulnerable gesture. Neil was disarmed.

'Maybe I do have a crush on you,' he said then. Weakly. His voice muffled in his palms. Neil was surprised. He really didn't know what to expect with this kid.

'I bet your shrink has something to say about that,' Neil said, still jarred from how violently he'd been pushed against the wall.

'He does. I don't care. He's never been through what we have. He doesn't know.'

'You can't _like_ me because of that summer,' Neil said flatly.

'I don't,' Brian said, lowering his hands. 'I like you because you're...because you were honest with me, because you can be funny and wry. B-because you’re not intolerable to look at. Okay?'

'Right,' Neil said, swallowing. 'What if I don't like you?'

'I think I can handle that,' Brian said calmly, and then offered his own small smile. The smile that made him look young and old at the same time.

'Right,' Neil said again.

The rest of the afternoon they watched videos together, and didn't talk about it again.

________________________________________

'What's the point in having a crush if you can't fuck?' Neil said, after a shot of vodka, a month later. They were sitting on Neil's bed, it was late and his mom was doing a night shift, and they'd had macaroni and cheese that Brian had made. They'd even saved enough for his Mom for dinner. Neil thought that was pretty alright.

Brian was pouring himself another shot, and then took a swig out of the bottle instead. Neil thought, _Eric really has corrupted him._

'I don't know. Is there a point in having a crush at all?' Brian said, filling both their shot glasses generously.

'But I can't do anything with you. Can I?' Neil said, and Brian looked at him, already his eyes were wide with fear. 'There, see?' Neil said, shaking his hand. 'Just the idea of it has you looking at me like that.'

'No,' Brian said in frustration. 'I mean yes. It scares me. But that doesn't mean I don't want to try.'

'Freak,' Neil said good-naturedly, and then had another shot of vodka. He was starting to feel it now. He missed this. It occurred to him that he might want to get some kind of job so that he could afford this kind of stuff, instead of depending on others all the time. But he had no idea what he could possibly do with his life. He still felt so aimless.

'Takes one to know one,' Brian said, using a phrase so old that Neil laughed.

When Brian took his glasses off and looked at the world without them, Neil saw more of his face. The square jaw, the large blue eyes that were usually lost behind glass and reflections. The way his hair actually kind of framed his face. He certainly wasn't awful to look at.

'You need different glasses, man,' Neil said, then. And Brian smiled a little.

'You think so?'

'Yeah.'

'Okay,' he said.

'I don't hate you,' Neil said suddenly.

'I know,' Brian said, putting his glasses back on and lying down so that his head was resting on Neil's shins. Neil couldn't help it, he hadn't touched someone in so long, and he remembered the feeling of Brian's hair in his fingers. He lowered his hand and stroked, idly. Brian froze, even that much gentle contact had him on edge.

'Calm down,' Neil said, absently, moving his second hand to do the same thing.

'But you don't like me.'

'Like I liked all of the guys I fucked. Touch doesn't always have to be about true love,' Neil said then, feeling warmth and scalp and hair underneath his fingers. And that was all he did, over and over again. Eventually he felt Brian's shoulders relax, and felt inexplicably happy about that. He did it until Brian fell asleep against him, and then put the shot glasses on his table and leaned against the wall and fell asleep hunched so that he was still supporting Brian with his legs, with two hands in his hair.

________________________________________

He woke up, Brian still asleep and pliant, though they'd shifted throughout the night. Neil was now lying flat on his bed, head against the pillow, and Brian at some point had shifted so that his head was resting on Neil's thighs. Neil ignored the boner he generally got in the morning, and looked instead at the blonde tufts of hair.

He eased up to take a piss, grateful that he didn't have a hangover, and when he returned, Brian was looking at him sleepily; glasses folded beside him on the bed. Neil found himself feeling unexpectedly tender. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and rested his hand on Brian's head, curling his fingers gently. Brian tensed and licked his lips at the same time.

'Mornin',' Neil said, softly, and Brian placed a hand on Neil's knee. Again the pressure was light, almost not touching, like when he'd placed a hand on Neil's shoulder. Neil used his other hand and pressed Brian's down.

'I'm not made of glass,' Neil said, 'I'm not going to fucking break.'

'I might,' Brian said, a quaver in his voice, a breathlessness that spoke of real fear. Neil moved his hands away reluctantly, and Brian closed his eyes. 'But you-you don’t have to stop. Please.'

Neil returned his hands. And looked down at this person who was fast becoming a good friend. Maybe something more.

'Okay. Like this?' Neil said, fingers carding through the blonde hair again. His other hand threaded through the fingers of the pale hand resting on his knee. 

Brian nodded once, a jerky movement. Neil nodded too, and looked down the tense line of Brian's body and shook his head. He could not be in this situation and not be reminded of the past. It was awful. And he couldn't draw away if he tried.

'It's...hard for me,' Brian said shakily, even as his fingers brushed up against Neil's.

'Yeah,' Neil said, seriously. 'I get that.'

'Don't make fun of me,' Brian said, defensive, his legs curling up into his body, and Neil frowned.

'I'm not,' he said.

'O-okay,' Brian said. But he sounded doubtful.

'I'm not,' Neil said again, moving his fingers so that they were now gently stroking the back of Brian's neck. He liked the smaller lengths of hair there, the heat that was warming his hand. Brian's breath hitched, but he didn't move.

'Is this okay?' Neil said, as he applied a bit more pressure, massaging more than seducing, feeling taut muscle and vertebrae against his hand. Brian nodded, and then clenched his fingers on Neil’s hand suddenly, as though hanging on for dear life. 

'It's okay,' Neil said again, feeling like he was with some wild animal, like that stray dog he had befriended when he was ten at the park. 'I'm not hurting you,' he added, just in case Brian couldn't tell.

'Okay,' Brian said, very softly, and Neil pressed his lips together and just massaged. Eventually the muscles relaxed, the hand holding his own went limp and Neil wondered if he'd fallen asleep again. He was getting bored now, and let his fingers slow to a stop.

Silence, breathing, the sound a car driving by outside. And then Neil watched as the fingers entwined with his disengaged, and then Brian sat up, tentatively smoothing his hair and looking bewildered and dazed.

'Was that...how was that?' Neil said, awkwardly.

Brian just looked at him, mute, as though all the speech had been taken from him. Neil felt his breathing quicken.

'Don't freak out,' Neil said, swallowing and shifting on the bed so that he could get a better look at Brian's face. 'Don't freak out. Come on, that wasn’t enough to warrant a blood nose, was it?'

Brian laughed a little then, though he still looked _very_ pale.

'Jesus. Shit,' Neil said, shaking his head. 'You're okay, right?'

'I think so.'

'Thank fuck. Well... Brian, that's the most action I've had in months. Hope you appreciate it,' he said wryly, 'and don't bleed on my bed or anything.'

Brian laughed, and Neil laughed a moment later, he couldn't help it.

They spent the morning walking around the streets, Neil keeping a surreptitious eye on Brian's nose, the paleness of his face. And Brian seemed content to talk about Neil's johns, where he grew up, and how much he hated his Dad.

________________________________________

A week later found them in front of the TV, watching a video, Neil's mom out on a night-shift and Eric working on some assignment. They had vodka, and chocolate, and crisps, and it was as casual as it could ever be when Brian was in the room. Neil was sitting up, and Brian was as close to horizontal as his slouched body would allow him to get.

Halfway through the second movie, Brian lay down further and rested his head on Neil's thigh. Neil got up before he even knew why. Brian looked up, shocked.

'Sorry,' Neil said. 'Sorry. It's not you.'

Though it was. It was remembering Brian lowering his head on his thigh at Coach's house. It was remembering the shaking and the tremors and the blood and the feeling that nothing would ever be alright again. It was saying 'shhh' over and over and over, as though he was saying it as much to himself as to the boy he held. It was a lot of things. He couldn't handle it.

'Hey,' Brian was saying, 'T-talk to me.'

'I just can't do it that way,' he was saying, he could barely hear himself and he couldn't hear the movie at all. And then he realised that Brian had paused it, was standing, facing him, ducking his head to look at him, to see. 

Neil turned away, swearing.

'Come sit down again,' Brian again, gesturing to the couch and then reaching out to grasp Neil's sleeve. Neil turned quickly, grasped him back with anger, and then was crushing his lips to Brian's, pressing hard against the softness, yanking Brian into him.

Brian ricocheted backwards as though he'd been thrown, and then he was leaning over the table, gasping, more fear than anything else.

'Is that what you want?' Neil said, hating the way his voice broke, hating everything in that moment. 'Is that it? I can give that to you, but you won't like it. Look at you, fucking fall down mess is what you are. Jesus.' He leaned against the wall, pretending that he was fine. Brian turned to look up at him, still bracing himself on the table.

'Is that how you deal with your shit? You put it on someone else? That's...not very mature,' he said, and then straightened, rubbed his lips. He looked angry, confused, concerned. Neil looked past him, at nothing. Blank place, he reminded himself.

'Come sit down and watch the rest of the movie with me,' Brian said, angry, and then sat down and un-paused the movie without waiting to see what Neil would do.

Five minutes later Neil joined him, again sitting far away from him on the couch, vulnerable and alien in his own home. When Brian left that evening, Neil wanted to apologise, but found all the words he had to say had turned to lead on his tongue.


	2. Chapter 2

Neil couldn't spend time at the old park where he used to pick up anymore, so he found another and walked until his legs hurt. He walked for hours. Sometimes he thought about things, but often he was blank and empty. It was common knowledge amongst the people he knew that he did this. Sometimes Eric joined him. But today it was Brian. And they walked together.

'You're all contradictions,' Brian said softly, recalling Neil back from his blank place.

'I never thought I was taken by aliens,' Neil said.

'I never thought I was in love with my abuser,' Brian retaliated, and Neil just shook his head.

'Whatever. You still seeing that shrink?'

'I had to stop. He just didn't get it. I want to see someone who doesn't get intimidated when I start talking about it. Who doesn't...get scared of the things I say.'

'Shit,' Neil said, kind of impressed and horrified at the same time. The concept of therapy freaked him out.

'I can talk to you though.'

'You poor bastard,' Neil commiserated, and Brian laughed nervously.

Brian walked over to a bench and sat down, and Neil sat down on the grass, leaning his head against the bench and looking across the deserted oval.

Brian shifted, and placed his hands on Neil's head. Neil looked up in surprise, and Brian was looking down at him, his expression intent. And then the pale fingers were shifting, massaging his scalp. Neil's eyes fluttered shut and he leaned back into the touch. It felt good. It felt even better because it was unexpected and it was after a hard day and it was just someone else touching him. He ignored the fact that it felt good because it was _Brian._

It continued, and Neil almost forgot where he was. A hand smoothed down his neck, massaging the knots, using enough pressure that he hissed in pain at one point. Brian didn't apologise. Didn't say anything. Only let up a little, before returning to the sore spot and smoothing it out with surprising deftness. The other hand ran down the front of Neil's neck, over the throat, and then simply rested on the collarbone. It was soothing and warm. It was a kind of feeling he wasn't really used to.

But he liked it.

Eventually Brian stopped, withdrew his hands, and Neil simply leaned his head against Brian's knee and sighed.

'I don't get you,' Brian said, and Neil nodded.

'Yeah. You're telling me.'

They sat in silence, and Neil wondered what Brian was thinking, but didn't want to disturb the companionship, and so didn't ask.

________________________________________

Neil invited Brian over for dinner a few nights later, though his mom was out yet again, and 'dinner' consisted of instant noodles with extra soy sauce.

There were no videos this time, only regular TV and Neil going through Brian's sketchpad. Brian squirmed uncomfortably, but Neil didn't get why.

'If I could do this shit, I wouldn't be flipping burgers.'

'You know, artists don't exactly make much money,' Brian said, and Neil shook his head.

'Whatever.'

'Mom reckons it's a waste of my time.'

'Your mom needs surgery to remove the broomstick up her ass,' Neil said, and Brian shoved him with a laugh, and then agreed.

'What comes after,' Brian said suddenly, and then didn't finish the sentence.

'After what?'

'After...' a pause, he was gathering himself, and Neil put the sketchpad down. 'After you've put your fingers in my hair, or touched my neck?'

'What do you think?' Neil said, and Brian shook his head.

'I don't know.'

'What do you want to come after?'

'I don't know,' he said. Already, his chest was rising and falling faster, and Neil shook his head.

'You're probably the only kid in the world who will bleed from the nose when he comes, I swear,' Neil joked, and Brian frowned.

'It's not funny.'

'It's funny,' Neil amended, and then sighed. 'Shit, I don't know what comes next. I can't kiss you. I can't... do the things I'd normally do. I'm pretty sure if I touched your dick, you'd pass out or something. I mean, what do you _want_ me to do?'

'I like what you've done so far,' Brian said hesitantly, and Neil nodded, sceptically.

'Yeah, so much, that you've pushed me, walked out of here...'

'Have I been that bad?' Brian said, horrified, and Neil shook his head.

'No. Not that bad. But... not great. Have you ever thought maybe you're just not _meant_ to have sex?'

'Yes. But it doesn’t feel right anymore,' Brian said, with a calm sadness that Neil understood.

'What about...' Neil trailed off, he couldn't believe he was going to say this, 'what about if you just did what you wanted to me, and you could stop whenever you wanted, and I'd do stuff to you if you asked? But otherwise I could just be like...'

He trailed off, what, Brian could be just like every other john he'd ever fucked? He made a small, frustrated noise in the back of his throat and went to get up, to walk away, but a hand on his wrist stopped him. Again, surprisingly strong.

'Could just be like what?' Brian said, and Neil shook his head.

'Don't worry about it.'

'Why not?' Brian said, earnest and straightforward.

'It's not important.'

'It sounded like a good idea, until you got like this. Tell me, stop shutting me out,' Brian said, and Neil sat down again, threw himself into the couch so that it shifted an inch backwards.

'It would just be a lot like... what I used to do with my johns,' Neil said.

'And that's bad?'

'Not great,' he said. 'Not that I hated it. I mean I didn't. I just... the last time, the last one, I'll think about that.'

'Your last john...' Brian said quietly, more to himself. 'What happened?'

'Nothing.'

'So something pretty big then,' Brian said, grabbing Neil's hand in his own. Neil thought it was ironic that the little bastard found it really easy to touch him when he wanted to know something. That didn't seem fair.

'Well _something_ then. Whatever.'

'Tell me.'

Neil thought that Brian was forceful when he wanted to be. Was a bossy little bitch, even worse than Wendy, she would at least back down, or let it go.

'He just... it was, I wasn't mugged before I came back home. I was...' Neil couldn't finish, he got that thing he always did, an inability to talk, a lack of words to describe what it was that he hated about it. But Brian understood, or at least his expression said he did.

'A john beat you up?'

'And other...yeah,' Neil finished, lamely. He looked up the ceiling, praying it would fall down on him and end this awful conversation. 'I haven't fucked anyone since,' he admitted.

'He raped you,' Brian said flatly, and then incredulous, with that nervous laugh of his, 'and none of them had ever raped you before?'

'Not like that night,' Neil said, and then he laughed too, and the sound was brittle, even to him. 'I don't even know why I did it. Fuck, I'd just finished my first shift, I was gonna get paid, I'd done the right thing. Wendy was all happy and shit. And then I saw him and it was like...I couldn't help it. I just didn't care. And then,' he took a deep, shaking breath, 'and then I did care. And by then it didn't matter, anyway.'

'I'm sorry,' Brian said, and then shook his head, almost at himself. As though he was annoyed with what he'd said.

'Whatever.'

'We're both freaks,' Brian said. 'I thought you'd be...confident and at ease with the s-sex stuff. I didn't realise that it would be hard for you too.'

'It's _not_ hard for me, okay?' Neil said, angrily.

'You are such a liar,' Brian said, leaning forward and drawing Neil down, down so that it was his head on Brian's lap. Neil went, reluctantly, looking up at Brian for reassurance, wondering why he was doing any of this. And when he was there, shifting to make sure he was comfortable, all he felt awkward and wrong. And then hands were in his hair, touching his scalp, his forehead, the tips of his ears, the back of his neck.  
He closed his eyes and held onto Brian's knee, as though he were falling off a building.

'You know that prostitution is a really common way of dealing with childhood abuse?' Brian said then, and Neil shrugged.

'And?'

'Did you know that?'

'No. I'm not a geek like you.'

Brian said nothing, but a moment later trailed fingers out of his hair, down the front of his forehead, over eyelids, cheeks, and eventually lips. Neil's lips parted, his heart was pounding and he told himself it was because he was annoyed that this was happening. But when the fingers ghosted over his lips again, and he had to take a deep breath, he knew he was lying to himself.

'You know, you could do worse than a geek,' Brian said, pressing his lips to Neil's hair, and making Neil feel so fragile that he almost bolted right there. His whole body tensed, made as if to leap off the couch, and Brian's hands pressed down. One on his shoulder now, the other back in his hair. They weren't pressing hard, just enough to ask him to stay. Neil shifted uncomfortably.

'You can tell me to stop whenever you want,' Brian said, and Neil squeezed his eyes shut, felt teary all of a sudden, had no idea what was going on. It was all fucked up. And yet he was hard, and tense, and wanted to just twist up and show Brian who was boss. He didn't.

'How many of them were nice to you, like this?' he said.

Neil said nothing.

'Was Coach? Did he do this?'

Neil shook his head.

'Good.'

Neil didn't even realise that he was silently shedding tears, until Brian's fingers smeared into them and then pulled away. Brian murmured something, but Neil wasn't listening, and then Brian was curling down over him, holding him, wrapping his arms around him. Strong and firm and solid.

Neil couldn't make a sound, even as the tears flowed, even as the shaking of sobs shuddered through his body.

He could never make a sound.

________________________________________

It was awkward between them for a few weeks after that, and Neil knew it was his fault. He wished Brian could break through the wall of silence he put up around himself, but it was too firm and solid. He was too fucked up. Neil spent a few days at the old park, on the old swing set, hanging off the monkey bars. He spent some nights just listening to music, and starting to pen letters to Wendy and then stopping after 'hey bitch,' not knowing what to say about everything that had happened. He even avoided Eric.

He just needed some time.

But after a four weeks, Brian showed up again, no backpack, no diary; a bottle of vodka in his hand and that determined look again. He pushed his way past Neil and then put the vodka on the dinner table.

'You okay?' Brian said, by way of greeting. Neil shrugged, and realised Brian hadn't looked at him yet.

'Sure,' he said.

'Everything you say is a lie,' Brian said, turning to face him. He smiled a little anyway and Neil watched him. Brian walked up to him, face set like he’d made his mind up about something, and then Neil stumbled a little when Brian put his arms around him. Pushed them around his torso, came in for a hug.

'What the fuck?' Neil said, but then hugged him back. He squeezed his arms tight around Brian's shoulders, and then Brian shuddered and tried to move backwards. Neil didn't let go.

'Nah uh, you can try dealing with it for a change. Go on, just relax, okay?' Brian was tense in his arms, shaking a little, breathing quickly. 'How is it that you can hug me, and now you're like this?'

'It's like a s-s-switch in my head,' Brian said, his fingers clenching on Neil's back spasmodically. Hanging on. Neil's arms tightened, it felt like the kid was going to collapse any minute now.

'I get it,' Neil said, softly, evenly. 'I get it.'

Neil moved one of his hands tentatively, rubbing Brian's back, between his shoulders. And Brian's head fell into Neil's shoulder, now he really was hanging on. Neil felt himself beginning to get hard, he hadn't had contact like this for some time, body to body, feeling the rush of adrenaline. He liked it. Without thinking, he pressed his crotch against Brian, and exhaled at the heady rush of it.

Brian said something muffled into his shoulder, and Neil couldn't make it out.

'Huh?' he said, moving a hand up to cup Brian's neck, massage from behind, imagined kissing him. Pressed into him again, a little too tall to feel if Brian was hard too. He doubted it.

'It's kind of...of overwhelming,' Brian said, tilting his head and taking deep, gulping breaths.

'So I stop now? Is that it?' Neil said softly, moving a hand down slowly, because he had to know. He had to know if Brian even got hard ons.  
Brian pressed his head so hard against Neil's shoulder now that it actually hurt, forehead grinding against bone. And Neil paused, letting his fingers just trail up, up, the inner thigh, breathing out hard through an open mouth as he felt the half-hardness.

'Shit,' he whispered, and Brian reached his arms around and clung to the front of Neil's shirt. He shuddered, and moved his forehead back, stared down at the hand between his legs. Neil moved his fingers again, slightly, and Brian made a small sound in the back of his throat. A broken, half-groan. And that was all Neil needed to hear, it was as though he was just waiting for it. His hand curled up against the shape of Brian's dick, fingers moving up against the denim, pressing and moving. Brian gasped, and then cried out.

' _Fuck,_ ’ he exhaled, and Neil grunted, hearing Brian swear was a turn on. He moved Brian and pushed him into the wall, ground into him, into his own hand and Brian moved sideways. Sideways out of his grip, and then bent double, gasping.

'Jesus, you okay?' Neil said, amazed that he was able to ask any questions at all, he was so hard.

'Yeah. Okay. Just need a minute.'

'But...you're getting into it.'

'Yeah,' Brian said, standing up slowly, rubbing a hand under his nose and looking at the lack of blood in amazement. 'Yeah, I know.'

'Brian-'

'I need a minute!' Brian said, raising his voice, looking wrought and confused and overwhelmed and flustered all at the same time. Neil waited, and then nodded, running a hand through his hair. Brian was talking again. 'You gotta remember I've never done this before. With anyone. Not even on my own. I don't even know what to expect. I don’t even really know what it feels like to feel good in _that_ way.'

'What about that summer, didn't you...?' Neil said, and Brian looked at him, all hurt and shocked.

'Oh my god,' Brian said, straightening, his face taut and paler than usual. 'Oh my god, Neil, I didn't enjoy any of that! I wasn't even there for any of that! I don't know where I went, but when I came back...my entire childhood was just gone. Like that. Gone!'

'Wait,' Neil said, shakily, he just realised how he'd fucked up. How much he'd fucked up. But Brian shook his head and looked dazed, undone, dishevelled. A moment later he sniffed and a small trickle of blood fell out of his nose. It actually made a sound as it hit the ground. Neil really did feel like he'd throw up then, and he turned and ran to the sink, threw up bile and the orange cordial he'd had earlier.

Brian was beside him, grabbing tissues, still conscious, not collapsed in the hallway like he'd feared. But he wasn't talking to him, and didn't say anything when he left, half a tissue box in his hands. The sound of the door slamming seemed to echo for a really long time, and eventually Neil could only think to get royally fucked up on the vodka Brian had left behind.


	3. Chapter 3

Neil went to Brian's place, thanks to Eric, a few days later. Brian was home, reading a book on his bed, glasses pushed up on his face, reducing it to reflections and giant eyes.

'We shouldn't be doing this at all. It's fucked up,' Neil said first. Sitting on the very corner of the bed, chilled and gutted. He could smell soap and shampoo, and the room had been stripped recently and looked like it was ready to be painted.

'So why are you here?' Brian said, he didn't even look up.

'Because I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I fucked it up. I'm sorry I even like you. Fuckin', you think it doesn't remind me of that summer too? You think it's easy for me?'

Brian slammed the book down, unexpected fury and a sudden ferocity glaring from his eyes.

'Yes! I DO think it's easy for you! Because you hide in your lies and your fantasy that the Coach loved you, but you're so messed up by it. Just as much as me. Maybe even more. But you get to hide from that too. Underneath all your fake calm, it's just all turbulence and the lies you tell yourself to make your life easier.'

'It's not easy for me,' Neil said, shaken that Brian could even think that after all this time, after some of the things he'd said. Brian actually sneered at him. That expression was so out of place that Neil had to look away.

'Yeah? So...there's you not h-having nightmares every night. Bleeding like a faucet every time something goes wrong. What? How is it not easy for you? Tell me!'

'I spent over five years of my goddamned piece of shit life fucking men who looked like the Coach because I missed the Coach, okay? You think I don't know how fucked up that is? You think I didn't feel like shit every time I fucked or was fucked by them? When I was even there. Didn't have moments thinking 'what the fucking hell am I doing? _Again?_ ' You think I don't think about what I did to you and the others? That I don't sit there and fucking chew myself out over it because I can't go back and undo what I did to you, and I _can't_ go and fix up your fucking problems, I can't even fix my own. Shit,' he said, and collapsed into himself, head in his hands. 'Shit.' He said again.

'Neil,' Brian said, and he sounded miserable. Neil waited, but no hands reached out to console, to touch his shoulder, his hair.

'When I was in that bathroom,' Neil said, 'With that guy...he was beating my face, you know, calling me a slut; and I was, I reckon. I could feel my heart beating, and the water...I just wished I'd die,' Neil said, wondering why he was even doing this, and amazed that he even had the _words_ for it.

'I wished that he'd just beat my brains in, and I'd never wake up again. And I thought 'I knew it'd end like this.' I thought 'I always knew it'd end like this.' Because I did you know. I still do. I believe my life will end in some guy's room, or bathroom. And they'll beat me to death. Or fuck me until I just don't exist anymore. And I feel like it's all I'm waiting for. Every day of my stupid fucked up life.'

Brian sighed, said nothing. For a while, it was just the sound of their breathing, Neil's foot shifting on the floor, some kids shouting at each other down the road.

'You still think you don't need therapy? To see someone?' Brian said, very softly. Neil stared at the floor for long moments.

'I think nothing can fix this black hole inside of me,' he said finally. 'I think I'm evil. Just...evil. Like the fucking devil or something.'

'You're not evil. You were used. He used you. And made you think it was love.'

'Evil loves evil, right?'

Brian scratched at his head and then stood up. He walked over to his desktop computer and then sat on the computer chair.

'I'm sorry, man,' Neil said. 'I'm really sorry. I got carried away. I didn't think you'd get into it. I'm sorry I said what...'

'Me too,' Brian laughed a little, rubbed his forehead. 'It was nice though. I mean I didn't hate it. I just... the lies that you tell yourself, they're so wrong for me. And for you. That you can think that I got off back then. I mean, maybe you did. And that's your...issue to deal with. But I didn't.'

'I'm sorry.'

'I know.'

They sat in silence for a long time after that, and eventually Neil left, saying goodbye, feeling like a stranger to himself, to everyone. Wondering why he felt so empty after saying the things he said. Over the past few weeks he'd started talking more than ever, and every word that came out of him seemed to take something with it. He felt even more hollow.

When he went home, he finally wrote his letter to Wendy. It was three pages long.

A week later, she was on his doorstep, the letter in her hand, luggage behind her, red streaks in her hair and a look on her face that meant he was either about to get the biggest hug she'd ever given him; or a long lecture.

He got both.

________________________________________

Wendy only stayed for a couple of days. Long enough to bitch about her job, her mother, her 'friend who is sending me mixed signals like I don't know,' her apartment, rent, money. Neil liked it, and so he listened. He let her words fill him back up again, remind him that he had things to say.

'What you're doing with Brian is fucked up, you know that right?' Wendy said one day, as they sat on the edge of the road, looking up the stars.

'I fuckin' told _you_ that, did you even read my letter?'

'I still think it's better than all of your...dysfunction before that. Your line of work. Everything that happened. What we did as kids.'

Neil looked at her in surprise.

'Really?'

'You're talking to someone about it. You don't think that's a big deal? I devoted years of my life trying to get you to talk more, and here comes some boy scout and he does it in less than a year.' She laughed then, and the sound was bitter. Neil looked at her but didn't say anything. He couldn't. He loved her, and he wished that she could have been the one he talked to about this. But beyond what she knew in scattered words and sentences, he just couldn't. Their friendship was too pure for him to make it something of dirt and wordless horrors. More than he had already, anyway.

'Do it until it stops working. And then stop and find something else that works,' she said sagely. Neil just shook his head.

'It's too fucked up.'

'Like you've ever been anything else,' she mocked him, nudged his arm with her fist, and he swayed with it, smirking.

'And tell Eric,' she said imperiously.

'What the fuck for?'

'Because it's not fair that I know, and Brian knows, and Eric knows, but not from _you._ And because he's your friend. And because the more people who know, the closer you're going to get to some new perspectives on that shit.'

'Maybe I don't need new perspectives.'

Wendy looked at him with a mixture of love and derision. He could never quite understand that look, but it made him care for her even more. That after all his shit, his crimes, his tricks, she still gave him these looks.

'I'm glad you're here,' he said, looking at the stars.

'I'm not. Hutchinson is a dump,' she paused. 'But I'm glad I'm seeing you.'

They sat under the stars until the cold made them shiver. Before they escaped to warmth and shelter, he hugged her for a long time, and didn't say anything.

________________________________________

When he told Eric about that summer for the first time, eking out as little detail as he possibly could, he was surprised at how much Eric already knew from what Brian had told him. He was even a little angry, like his big secret wasn't worth anything anymore. And maybe even pissed that Eric didn't hate him, didn't see how awful he was, didn't ditch his puppy-love that stayed true even after all this time.

'I'm not like Brian,' Neil said, trying to make Eric understand. 'I'm like the Coach. I'm more like him. Don't feel sorry for me.'

Eric was looking at him in confusion, and Neil knew he'd either get mad or go blank at Eric's stupidity. A moment later a disconnected calm washed over him. He almost sighed in relief.

'I'm not a fuckin' victim. I'm an abuser. I can't hate the Coach and not hate myself for what happened,' Neil said, logically, calmly.

Eric just shook his head.

'Wendy can tell you. She knows,' Neil said, firmly, feeling empty space around him like a vacuum.

Eric shook his head again.

'You are such an idiot,' Eric said, but he was sad and not laughing when he said it. It wasn't as much of a joke as it usually was. 'You and Brian aren't that different.'

'Man,' Neil said, 'you're high or something.'

'I should be, for a conversation like this. But I'm not. I'm a good friend, and you love me,' Eric said amiably, and then leaned his head on Neil's chest; as they were both lying down on the grass in the park.

'I made Brian bleed from his nose. That thing he does when he's super-stressed.'

'He told me.'

'He fucking tells you everything, doesn't he?' Neil said suddenly, and Eric nodded, shifted his head so it was directly over Neil's heart.

'You know he didn't really mind. He pretty much expects to collapse from this sort of stuff all the time. And you know he hasn't actually fainted in a really long time? He's been having less nightmares. You've been pretty good for him. Well...and therapy. That was good for a while too.'

'You don't get it,' Neil said dismissive, 'you didn't see him. You didn't see how he was. He should stay away from me.'

'Mm, of course, because you know what's best for everyone, seeing as you're such an awesome judge of human character. Neil, I swear, I like you for a lot of reasons, but your insight into the human psyche isn't one of them.'

'Whatever,' Neil said.

'I can hear your heartbeat,' Eric said then, and Neil laughed.

'Man, I don't know what you're hearing, but I'm pretty sure I don't have a heart.'

Eric raised up to look at Neil, incredulous and disbelieving, and Neil looked away. He didn't want to qualify that statement, and it turned out that Eric didn't want to push. He sighed in that way he sometimes did, and lowered himself back down to Neil's chest.

They lay like that until the sun set, and it was time to leave.


	4. Chapter 4

Brian came over for dinner. He organised it with Neil's mom, and didn't ask Neil in advance. So one day, Neil was getting scrubbed up to eat with his mom for a change, and Brian rocked up – as always with videos, and chocolate, and his backpack, and it was so surreal that Neil was struck dumb for some time.

They ate, and Brian made amiable conversation with Neil's mother, and they joked, and occasionally Neil muttered something; one syllable to indicate that he was still there. Really, he was very confused and feeling like he didn't know what was going on. He lost his appetite towards the end and wrapped up the rest of his pasta for breakfast the next morning.

They both went to Neil's room afterwards, and heard his mom starting to wash the dishes. Brian closed the bedroom door.

'She's nice,' Brian said, and Neil shrugged, pretending that the stain on his wall was far more interesting than the blonde by his desk.

'You've been avoiding me,' Brian said again, and Neil didn't do anything. Didn't even shrug. How did he answer that? He thought he was the one being avoided. 

Then again, it had been some time since he'd visited Brian at his house. Neither of them had tried to initiate any contact.

'Are you going to say anything?' Brian said, helpless. Neil grunted, non-committal, and Brian sat down on Neil's bed, back against the wall.

'I'm not leaving,' he said. 'Not in the next few minutes, anyway. I suppose I have to leave at some point, or your mom will start to get ideas, and mine will worry.'

Neil turned around and faced Brian, remained standing, didn't know what to do or say. Felt awkward and scared of doing the wrong thing.

'I'm not a child anymore, Neil,' Brian said, lowering his voice and his head at the same time. 'I have my weird triggers, and the things I don't react well to, but that doesn't mean I'm a child and you have to treat me like one. So we made mistakes. I thought I was ready, and I wasn't. You thought maybe I got off back then, and I didn't. Are you going to be like this around me forever now?'

'Maybe,' Neil said. Shifting on his feet. He realised, with deep embarrassment, that he might actually be feeling _shy._

'Sit on the bed,' Brian said. It was a statement, and not a question, and Neil – used to obeying most statements – sat down on the bed. He left a good amount of space between them.

'I'm sorry I lost it,' Brian said. 'I didn't think you were a monster, or evil, or wrong, or horrible. I just wanted things to be really good between us and they fell apart, and I got angry at you for it. You have to know it's not all you. It's half and half, we're both going to make mistakes.'

'You said that already.'

'What I'm saying is, I want to try it again.'

Neil grunted again, and ran a hand through his hair. 'Do you think that's a good idea? Really? How can you touch me and not think of... the shit we did all that time ago?'

'W-well, I don't know if you're aware of this, but I can't touch _anyone_ without thinking of everything that happened all those years ago. And anyway. You're not a child anymore, you're an adult. An adult who made choices to be kind to me, and listen to me, and ask me if I was okay. You've been... everything that Eric said you weren't, before I met you. And I have faith in that. I trust you.'

'That's what Wendy would call a sucker for punishment. Right there,' Neil said. He tiredly went and sat on his bed so that his back was against the wall, and his legs were drawn up. He felt flat and despondent and lonely. He wanted Brian to mean what he was saying. He wanted the words to fix him, but he knew after all this time that it was never that simple. It occurred to him that Brian might feel the same way.

Brian was shifting on the bed, moving and crawling and then arching over Neil and pressing his lips to his. It was chaste and awkward all at the same time. Neil wasn't so good at unexpected kissing, and Brian didn't know what he was doing. All the same, Neil tilted his head up into the lips without thinking, and Brian brushed his lips against Neil's again, gently. The almost-there touch that made Neil want more. But he forced himself not to move. He just waited.  
Brian withdrew, knelt and looked thoughtful. Not dazed. Not terrified. Neil hoped that was a good thing.

'That wasn't bad,' Brian said, and Neil nodded, like this sort of situation was the most natural thing in the whole world.

'Nope. Wasn't bad,' he said.

'I don't want to do...tongue or anything,' Brian said.

'Yeah,' Neil said. Brian shuffled forward a little and placed both hands on the top of Neil's bent knees. Fingers met and then slid down the inside of his legs, parting them. Neil could only stare, shocked at this boldness, wondering why he liked it so much, where Brian got his courage from. He wondered if Brian might share some of it with him.

'Shit,' Neil said, his voice barely more than a whisper. Brian smiled then, an honest-to-goodness smile, completely at odds with the hands that were at inner thighs now, smoothing down, brushing against his jeans, able to feel his rapidly hardening dick. This was insane. And Neil couldn't even move.

'I like this,' Brian said, innocently, pressing his hand in a way that made Neil open his mouth, roll his eyes sideways, take deep breaths. His arms locked either side of him, and he was bracing himself against the bed. This was _Brian_ , for fuck's sake.

Brian moved one of his hands up, pressed his palm against Neil's chest. And then he shifted it down, and underneath Neil's shirt, so that it was against his skin. He didn't stop shifting his other hand rhythmically against Neil's dick, over the denim. Neil was so hard it actually hurt, but he wouldn't have stopped what was happening for any amount of money. He didn't really miss the people he’d fucked, but he certainly missed the fucking.

'You look really good,' Brian said, his voice breathy and intense. Neil swallowed.

'Feels good,' he managed, and Brian grinned. Neil reached up with one hand and took Brian's glasses off, dropped them on the bed. It wasn't that he hated glasses, it was that he hated _those_ glasses. And still, everything was better when he could actually see Brian's face properly. See the bright blue eyes, the shaggy hair, long eyelashes.

'How do I make you come?' Brian said, suddenly, and Neil blinked and wondered if he understood this language. It sounded like English, but the sentence didn't make sense.

'Huh?' he said. Articulate, as ever.

'What do I do? Do I keep doing this? Do I need to do something different?'

'You want me to...' Neil trailed off, 'For real?'

'If I want to do it, maybe I want to see you do it first,' Brian said, and Neil started to think that sounded kind of logical, before the thoughts scattered from his brain as Brian pressed even harder. _Christ_ , he thought.

'You're not...freaking out?' he said, and couldn't even open his eyes anymore to watch Brian's reaction.

'I'm not. Are you?'

'Fuck. A little. My mom's out there,' he said, catching his breath, biting off a sound in the back of his throat. Brian was stroking his chest, his torso, his ribs. It all felt good.

'Can I?' Brian said, and Neil wanted desperately to undo his jeans. Because the pressure was becoming less cool now.

'I have to...' Neil reached down, brushed against Brian's hands, whose fingers entwined with his with an unexpected intimacy. Neil paused a moment, savouring the affection, and then undid his fly, feeling the pressure lighten immediately. That was much better.

He didn't expect Brian's hand to return so quickly, snaking under the jeans, grasping him through his briefs like it was easy. Neil jerked, clutched Brian's arm, feeling like he was being untangled, unknotted. When he pictured them both making out, he'd never pictured anything like this.  
Brian scooted even closer, the hand on his chest moving around to Neil's back.

'What do I do?' he whispered, and Neil swallowed dryly.

'This is good,' he managed, thinking he could probably give more tips than that. But he was so disarmed; whether it was Brian, or the fact it had been so long, or that it was _Brian_... Neil felt close already. He placed his hand over Brian's, feeling the fingers pressing against the thin material covering his dick, and he couldn't help it; he moved his hands a little, altered the motion, and then jerked up into Brian's hand as the pressure increased. He made a sound then, the exhales were harsher, and he was leaning forward to press his mouth into Brian's neck to muffle the noise. Brian's breathing changed when that happened, became harder, hotter, more intense. He increased the speed without any urging from Neil, and Neil clutched the bedspread in his other hand and felt it building, and building. 

Christ, he was going to come already.

His hand shot up and grabbed Brian's shirt, knotting the material in tense fingers. His hips were moving up into the motion, and he wanted to give Brian a warning, but didn't trust himself to speak softly enough that his mom wouldn't hear and burst in. Didn't trust himself to be able to speak at all.

'Wow,' Brian said, his voice higher than usual, just as intense, and Neil thought that Brian might stop then. That it might all be getting too much. But instead Brian just tightened the arm around Neil's back and pulled him in closer. _Held_ him. And Neil wanted to say something like 'don't hold me, man,' but he liked it, and besides it was too late now anyway. That feeling that cascaded into him, began in his balls and pulled up everywhere else, it was bearing down on him now. 

He was definitely going to come.

He bit Brian's shoulder, twisted Brian's shirt in his fist, and jerked over and over, trying to keep the motions small, as he spurted come into his own briefs. It seemed to last a really long time, Brian's hand slowing, arm tight and solid against his back. Neil felt it like a flood flowing through him, again and again, until he was all blankness and stillness in the aftermath.

Brian moved back only slightly, withdrew his hand from between Neil's legs, withdrew the arm from around his back. Neil hoped, prayed even, that Brian wasn't just about to leave. Because that would be awful. Not after something like _that._

'A-are you okay?' Brian said, and Neil nodded, unable to speak, still catching his breath.

'Are you sure?' he said again. And Neil opened his eyes, looked at Brian's face, which was flushed red. He nodded again, feeling wet and sticky now, embarrassed.

'Do you need me to go?' Neil shook his head at that, closed his legs, just stared at Brian. He wished he could say something, but words had deserted him. God he hated it when he forgot how to talk.

'Say something,' Brian said, the one thing that Neil was hoping he wouldn't say. And Neil rubbed a hand over his face.

'I can't,' he said.

'You were amazing,' Brian said, 'is it always like that? For you?'

'It's not usually on my own bed, with my mom in the other room, and some geek helping me out,' Neil said, finding language again. 'Nah. It's not always like that. That was...alright,' he finished lamely. Brian beamed and grabbed some tissues out of the tissue box on his desk. Neil held out his own hand, and Brian placed some tissues in them. Neil cleaned himself up awkwardly. Smelling come and sweat and still kind of dazed that this had happened at all.

'That took me by surprise,' Neil said. And Brian threw his tissues into the waste-paper basket and missed. Neil wasn't stupid enough to try, he'd learnt that lesson himself a long time ago.

'Will it be like that for me?' Brian said, his eyes wide with fear and anticipation at the very thought. Neil smiled wryly.

'Maybe.'

'It looked kind of intense.'

'Yeah,' Neil said, emphatically. 'Well, that was definitely intense.' He stretched his legs out and groaned. 'I mean that was really fucking intense.'

'It was amazing,' Brian said, stretching out alongside him, casual and surprisingly relaxed.

'And you're not freaked out at all?' Neil said, still surprised at this whole turn of events. Feeling a bit strange.

'Sometimes you've got to do things that scare you, because there's usually a reward at the end. At least, that's what my mom always tells me.' Brian smiled to himself. 'Turns out she was right.'

'Yeah,' Neil said. He felt like he was doing something wrong, somehow. Here was Brian, apparently okay with what had just happened, and Neil still felt completely blindsided. He scooted off his own bed and did up his jeans, and then looked out of the window. He couldn't look at Brian again.

There was a pause, and then Brian shifted on the bed.

'Neil? You're...you're not okay, are you?' he said, as though he'd only just realised.

Neil didn't say anything. He couldn't even tell. The experience hadn't been bad, so what was the problem? Too many thoughts in his head at once. He looked up at the ceiling, told himself that any minute now, he'd go blank, and he'd have nothing to worry about.

_Come on_ , he thought, but the blank place didn't come. Instead he was left feeling frustrated, trapped, not knowing what to do.

'Neil,' Brian was saying, and somehow he'd materialised next to him, looking wide-eyed, worried, face pale again. Neil looked at him and didn't say anything, couldn't. He shook his head, listened to the hollow vacuum sound building inside of him.

'Say something,' Brian said. And Neil just looked at him. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? He was doing it all wrong. The right thing to do would be to go with the experience, say it was good, congratulate Brian on his achievement and then go and watch videos or something. But he didn't have any right things in his head. Only that sound.

He didn't even flinch when fingers touched the side of his face. He was already so empty. And his vision was blurry when Brian lead him back to the bed, and sat him down, and then sat next to him. Intruding on his inner space were the sounds of dishes being put away. Of two cars driving by outside.

'Neil,' Brian said again, and Neil looked at him. Then he looked down.

'Fuck,' Neil said, finally. His first line of defence. 'I'm sorry. I can't...' He trailed off. He couldn't what? Think? Talk? Be the person he was supposed to be in this situation? He didn't know.

'No, good, this is good, keep talking to me,' Brian was saying, almost babbling, that nervous quaver back in his voice. Neil shook his head.

'Anything. I don't care what it's about,' Brian said.

'It's a thing I get,' Neil said, feeling limp and wrung out. 'Sometimes. I kind of forgot about it. I haven't had it in a while.'

'I did the wrong thing,' Brian said. Christ, he sounded like he might start crying. Neil knew he really couldn't handle that.

'Fuck off. It's a thing I get. Since forever. It's not you.'

'What happens? Wh-what's happening?' Neil looked at Brian again, feeling a little bit more together. Still very far away from the situation, the night, the person sitting next to him. Absently he moved his hand across the bed towards Brian, who grasped it firmly. An anchor.

'I get all empty. Like there's nothing inside of me. Not words. Not...anything. I get far away. From you. From...this.'

'That's dissociation,' Brian said, simply. And Neil looked down at the hand grasping his own. It was sweaty, and warm. It felt real.

'Whatever.'

'So it wasn't good?' Brian said, and Neil grit his teeth together.

'It was good! Stop asking me that. I told you, I always get it. I get it even when I haven't just... It was good,' he finished quietly. 'I just forgot that I got it like this. I mean, I was usually out of the door by the time this shit started to happen. Or they didn't mind. I'm pretty sure most of them didn't mind.' Neil looked at Brian, amazed he was talking this much, already. He felt more in himself, more together. The room felt real around him.

'You scared me,' Brian said, softly, sounding younger than he was.

'Sorry.'

'What happens now?'

Neil looked at the young man sitting before him, so earnest, and a little miserable, like someone had just killed his puppy. He couldn't help it, he laughed a little, at them both, at himself, and then ran his other hand through his hair.

'Let's watch some fucking movies, I'm sure mom made dessert.'

Brian smiled tentatively.

'Okay.'

________________________________________

Eric and Neil were driving to get something incredibly unhealthy for lunch. Eric had spent the morning showing Neil a new brand of make-up he wanted to try, and once more asked Neil if he'd ever be willing to try it. It was like a ritual they had. And as always, it ended up with Eric looking at him enviously and saying, 'like you need it anyway.' And then it ended with deciding to get lunch, or go driving, or head down to a park. 

'You let Brian jack you off?' Eric said, as they were stopped at some lights, and Neil looked at him sharply, surprised. You've got to be kidding me, he thought.

'What?'

'Was it good?' Eric asked, raising his eyebrows, grinning salaciously.

'Fuck!' Neil shouted, kicking the underside of the dashboard, kicking it again. 'Do I not get any fucking privacy in this piece of shit place? _Fuck!_ ' And then he wrestled his seatbelt off and was out of the car door before the lights turned green.

Eric was shouting after him, but Neil ignored him, and just ran away. It felt like the best thing he'd done in a while.


	5. Chapter 5

Eric left him messages saying he was sorry, but Neil ignored them. It wasn't so much that he was angry at Eric, it was that he was embarrassed and had no idea what to do with that feeling, or what the point would be. When he was angry, it seemed to come on so suddenly, and from nowhere. And how did he apologise for that? Eric was probably wringing himself out over it all, and all Neil wanted to say was that it didn't matter. Christ, he couldn't even bring himself to say that.

He was getting sick of being gossiped about. He used to like it. It once gave him a feeling of credence and reality. If people were talking about how awesome, or cold, or callous, or beautiful he was behind his back; then he existed. And now it just seemed intrusive, and like he was just this thing that they could discuss, and he didn't know what to do about that either.

And then there was Brian. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he missed him. And he hated how screwed up they both were. It would never be normal, he realised. Any relationship he ever had; not that he'd ever considered a relationship before Brian. It would never be normal with anyone.

And slowly he was coming to realise that the reason for that, was Coach, and the experiences he’d had as a kid. He felt like he was being poisoned. He was slowly being taken away from the one person he thought cared for him more than anyone else.

He didn't know what to do with himself; so he took to jogging around the oval, instead of walking. Still, he felt so aimless, and he had no idea what he was going to do with the rest of his life now that he wasn't fucking everyone who wanted to fuck him.

________________________________________

Eric and Brian both came over one night, when his mom was out working. Eric just walked in, while Neil was going through some old baseball cards in his room, and Neil didn't even know Brian was there too until they both stood in his doorway. He hated it when the exit was barred like that, but he didn’t say anything. He looked up, looked down, and ignored them.

'Told you. Let's watch a movie,' Eric said to Brian, and they both left Neil in his room to his own devices. Neil looked at the baseball cards and then put them away and lay down on his bed, looked up at the ceiling. He'd be fucked if he was going out there. It just wasn't going to happen.

He listened to opening credits and closed his eyes. They didn't pressure him to come out and watch, and he kind of liked it, so he just lay there and enjoyed the fact that Eric wasn't dragging him out to watch another b-grade horror.

He must have dozed, and woke up to see Brian standing, hunched over, in his doorway.

'C-can I come in?'

'Is the movie over?' Neil said, sitting up, and Brian shook his head. Neil shrugged, and Brian walked in, closed the door behind him, and sat on the edge of the bed, looking tense and nervous. Christ, were they going to have to go through this every second week or something?

'What's wrong?' Neil said, frowning. Brian worried at his lower lip and didn't say anything.

'And why are you both here?' Neil added.

'It was Eric's idea. To come over.'

Neil felt disappointed at that. He was kind of hoping that Brian had wanted to see him. Then again, after his big freak out last time, maybe not. Maybe that was as far as they'd go. As he'd ever go, with anyone, if he wasn't getting paid for it anyway.

'We're not ever...' Brian trailed off. 'Do you think it could ever be worth it? Us? Or me trying to...be friends with you?'

'You had my come on your hand, shit, I don't do that with friends,' Neil said flippantly, and then he knitted his fingers together and sighed.

'I hurt you,' Brian said.

'I told you, it's a thing I get.' He wondered if Eric thought they were making out right now, and it almost made him laugh, it was so surreal.

'Then I made you freak out.'

'Fuck you,' Neil said suddenly, angry. 'I could've stopped what happened. So stop acting like this. Whatever. It happened. It's a thing I get. You want to fucking touch me? You're gonna have to deal with that. It's not fair that...' he trailed off and Brian waited.

'Go on,' Brian said, after Neil had already started to think this conversation was useless.

'You get to be the one who freaks out, and people just accept it, like that's _you_. But if I do it, you act like what, I'm not allowed? Are you the only one who gets to be fucked up? Because you're not the only one who's fucked up.' Neil finished, and Brian grimaced.

'You hide it b-better.'

'Yeah, because I _lie,_ ' Neil said bitterly, remembering all the times that Brian had called him a liar, and feeling like he was crap anyway, so why not embrace it? Brian shifted on the bed so that his back was against the wall.

'It's not a bad thing that you lie to yourself,' he said honestly, 'you tell yourself what you need to, so you can be the person you are.'

'You shouldn't even be doing this shit with me. It's bad enough that I fucked you up as a kid, now you want me to do it as-'

'You didn't fuck me up as a kid,' Brian said, firmly. And Neil scoffed at him. Threw a glare of utter contempt in his direction. But Brian was looking at him, sparks of anger in his eyes, his jaw set, his fists clenched. He was mad at something.

'Whatever,' Neil said.

'You're not the one who masterminded the whole thing. Who probably drifted from town to town, finding different kids to groom, and kids to recruit other kids, never staying in one place too long. Leaving all of us behind in his wake.'

'Shut up,' Neil said. It wasn't that Brian was wrong, so much as he hated hearing the reality that he was just one more notch in the Coach's bedpost. It made his chest ache, even as the clamour started, reminding him that no; Brian was wrong. Was _wrong._

'No,' Brian said, and Neil's eyes widened. He hated this. It was like having teeth pulled, sometimes, talking to this kid. 'You get it, don't you? You-you know that what happened with you was so awful. That one of the things you thought was real love, was not love at all.'

'Seriously, Brian, _shut up,_ ' Neil said softly.

'Okay,' Brian said, and then shifted on the bed so that his legs were drawn up to his chest, and his arms were around them.

'And do you have to keep telling Eric about everything we're doing?' Neil said suddenly.

'I...' Brian trailed off. 'I like to talk about things. I think secrets are...I just don't like them,' he said and Neil rolled his eyes.

'Great.'

'I didn't think you'd mind.'

'Whatever,' Neil said, and Brian made a noise of frustration in his throat. Neil looked up at him then, but Brian was looking at his knees.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of characters screaming in the lounge, and Eric occasionally laughing in manic delight. At some point, Neil looked furtively at Brian and just watched him. Looked at the tense line of his body, the way he hugged himself, the lonely figure he was despite being less than two feet away from Neil. Looked at the shaggy hair and the glasses and he sighed.

'What we do. Any of it. It's gonna bring up shit from our past,' Neil said, flatly. 'Can you handle that?'

'Can you?' Brian said, without looking up. Neil shrugged.

'Fucked if I know.'

'I just want it to be easy. And normal,' Brian said, miserable, his voice shaping a brittle laugh around the last word. Neil moved forwards on the bed, sat next to Brian, so that their arms were against each other. After a beat, they both leaned until their heads were touching.

'Yeah,' Neil said. He wanted that too.

'It's never going to be like that, is it? Like what you see in the movies?'

'Well, I'm never going to eat your brains, or wear your rib-cage as a hat or anything. If that's what you mean. I don’t know what films you’re talking about, I’ve been too brainwashed by Eric’s tastes in the horror department.'

Brian laughed, a bubble of laughter that seemed to surprise even him.

'That's c-comforting.'

'Yeah,' Neil nodded, as they listened to the hack music of the film, more screams, violins shrieking.

'Yeah,' Brian echoed, and then after a few more minutes of leaning in silence, mulling over their own bittersweet thoughts, Brian pulled Neil off the bed and dragged him out for a night of sitting on the couch drinking, watching horror, and chocolate.

He actually kind of enjoyed himself.

________________________________________

The next few times they visited, it was just friendly. There was nothing else. Almost no touching, no hugs, no Neil being jacked off in his bedroom. But it was also uncomfortable, and sometimes the camaraderie felt forced. Then again, camaraderie often felt forced to Neil, like he just hung out with people who would eventually hate him, so he just played their game and waited for it all to end.

It was clear that Brian was sorting through his own shit. He seemed spacey at times, and he was a bit jumpier than usual. And when Eric pointed it out, he'd mentioned that he'd just had a lot on his mind lately and didn't expand.

Neil was dealing with his own shit too. He'd taken to writing things down on the back of his Mom's shopping receipts. And then he hid them all in a shoebox, because he felt like he was doing something weird and illicit. A lot of the time he just wrote single words, or sentences. One day he wrote, 'am I human?' and stared at it for a long, long time before folding it and putting it in the shoebox.

He threw out most of his baseball cards, and asked for some extra shifts at the burger place, so that he could make a bit more money and see if he actually liked doing anything else other than sitting around and blanking out, or watching sports, or drinking, or smoking joints.  
But the money piled up, because he had no idea what he liked doing.

________________________________________

On one of his days off, Brian and Neil decided to walk around the park. It was tense, and awkward. Neil hated it. Maybe he'd been right. Maybe what happened was all that would ever happen. They were both so broken.

'I miss feeling special,' Neil said abruptly, and Brian turned to look at him in shock.

'What?'

'I miss feeling special. Coach. The guys. They all... I mean there was _something_ in me or about me that they wanted. I don't feel like I'm anything anymore.'

'Would you ever go back to it? Having...doing what you did?' Brian said, and Neil shrugged.

'Maybe.' He thought about it some more. 'No,' he said.

'That's good.'

'No, it's not. It's not like I'm good for anything else. Fucking and being fucked, the _only_ two things I'm good at,' Neil said, forced bravado in his voice.

Brian stopped, and Neil stopped, and then Brian was looping his arms around him, just hugging him, even though Neil just stood there. Uncertain. Brian was strong against him, an unexpected pillar of strength. His arms tightened, and Neil brought his own up reluctantly, returning the hug.

'I still don't get why you're so nice to me,' Neil muttered.

'I like you. You're worth it,' Brian said, like it was simple and straightforward. Neil found both of the sentences confusing and strange. He didn't believe them. He wanted to believe them.

'You're not freaking out from this?' Neil said and Brian squeezed even tighter, as though to prove just how much he wasn't freaking out.

'But you are, right?' Brian said, voice a little muffled in the fabric of Neil's jacket. And then he withdrew and looked intently and Neil's face, like he was reading between the lines.

'Yeah,' Neil said, because he didn't know how to lie his way out of this mess.

'D-do you...trust me not to hurt you?'

'I don't trust myself,' he said, and started walking again. But Brian ran in front of him, and stopped him.

'To hurt me?'

Neil didn't say anything.

'You're afraid of hurting me, aren't you?' Brian said, insistent. Neil just looked at him. Why would he even bother dignifying this with a response, and screwing up the conversation even more? He wasn't exactly a 'talk about his feelings' kind of guy. And here was Brian, wanting him to talk about his feelings.

'And you're afraid of being hurt, right?' Brian said, and Neil stepped sideways to walk past him, but Brian blocked him again.

Neil thought; _this is ridiculous._

'Can we just started walking again?' he said, frustrated with how desperate he sounded.

'Can't you just answer the question? It's just a question. Why are you scared of a question?'

'I don't need a fucking shrink,' Neil said, and this time did manage to step around Brian. He walked away briskly, as fast as he dared, and wondered if Brian would follow. A moment later he stumbled and fell to the grass, his knees hitting hard. Two hard hands had shoved him from behind.

'I'm not your fucking shrink,' Brian was saying, voice rising in tone, coming round to confront Neil again, looking around in fear and determination before kneeling and facing him. 'I'm the p-person who's had his hand in your p-pants. And we're supposed to be at least friends. And we're the ones who share the same past, of being molested by a Coach who left us behind to pick up the pieces. Why are you so intimidated by my questions? Just answer me. Are you afraid of hurting me? Are you afraid of being hurt? Just answer!'

Neil was in the process of getting up, and then stayed, feet on the ground, one hand in the grass.

'What the fuck do you think?'

'Just _answer,_ ' Brian said, and Neil glared at him.

'Fuck you, Brian.' There was no passion in his voice as he said it.

'It's a yes or no question. You don't even have to think about it. So just answer it. Please. It's important.'

'It's not fucking important.'

'Would it help if I told you I was afraid of the same thing?' Brian said, his eyes glittering behind his glasses. 'If I told you I was afraid of being hurt, afraid of h-hurting you? That I’ve written about it in my diary and, and even...talked to Eric about it because I was afraid I'd really hurt you the other day? Please just answer the question.'

'Why is this so important to you, man?'

'It's important because you're avoiding it like this. You don't avoid things unless they're important. And not like this. You think I don't know you, now? Probably better than anyone else.'

Neil contemplated that, and then slumped down onto the grass, because fuck it, that was true. Brian did know him better than anyone else now. And that was horrible, and he didn't like it. He liked people knowing his body, not his mind.

'Yeah,' Neil said.

'Yeah' what?'

'What do you fucking think? You got your answer to your questions, didn't you? I'm not saying it again.'

Brian sighed, explosively, and folded his legs on the grass. Neil felt his own jeans getting damp from the soil and he looked up at the sky in exasperation. This really was ridiculous.

'Get up,' he said to Brian, and then got up himself. He brushed himself off, felt the dampness of the grass and muttered in disgust. He felt scoured out, raw, and unexpectedly tired. Brian was standing now, looking a little bewildered, and watching Neil like he was expecting something. Neil didn't have anything left to give.

'Neil...' Brian said shakily. 'Th-thanks.'

'Man, it's gotta get easier, or I'm done with all this shit,' Neil said abruptly, though he felt a little better at hearing Brian's acknowledgement.

'It's not hard because of me,' Brian said.

Neil paused in the middle of straightening his shirt. He stayed like that for a while, listening to the thoughts inside his head, thinking about all the dirty secrets and words and sentences he had on shopping receipts in his room.

'Yeah. I know,' Neil said. They looked at each other, and an understanding seemed to pass between them. And when they parted ways a little later, things actually did seem easier between them. Enough that Neil wondered when he'd see the blonde freak again, as he watched him walk away.


	6. Chapter 6

Eventually, Neil was made supervisor at his work. He was given a raise, and a bit more responsibility, and mostly spent his time amazed that anyone would give him any significant power at all. The idea of telling people what to do – who weren't his friends anyway - made his skin crawl, and his boss, who seemed to be one of the few decent people on the planet, had to gently reprimand him to remind him that being a supervisor meant actually supervising.

Neil snapped one day, and told him he hated the stupid fucking job, and wanted to go back to flipping burgers; and his boss let him do that for two shifts before taking him into his office and telling him he was still a supervisor.

And then afterwards his boss said; 'you know, I've heard things about you; Neil McCormick.'

Neil said nothing.

'A kid doesn't do the things you did without a good reason. And I know what those reasons are. Some of them, anyway.'

Neil took a breath, but did nothing, pretended he was blank and stupid, and like he didn't understand the conversation.

'I don't care what the hell it was; if your Momma beat you, or if you had an Uncle who interfered with you, or if you fucked your way through all of Hutchinson and then some. You're a good worker, and you'll be a good supervisor, and if you ever want to make something of yourself, you'll listen to someone like me.'

Neil grunted in assent, surprised.

'Good, now get back to work, supervising this time. And delegate, like I told you. It's supposed to be _easier_ once you get the hang of it, so just give it a try.'

So Neil went out there and gave it a try.

And the money kept slowly piling up.

________________________________________

Brian came over on a Friday night. Neil's mom was out seeing one of her sisters, and Neil was home alone feeling pent up and like he should be in some bar, waiting for someone to come pick him up. He'd stacked all the cereal boxes and made a tower. He'd lined up some cookies on the table. He'd even done some dishes and put them away.

When Neil let Brian in, he almost let out a sigh of relief.

'Eric told me you were made supervisor, or something? Congratulations. Do you like it?' Brian said, amiable.

'It's money.'

'I-I guess so.'

Brian put his backpack down so it was leaning against the doorframe. He looked around curiously, as he often did, like he was re-mapping the place, and taking in new details. His eyes alit on photo frames, on a cross-stitch in the corner, and then on the cookies that were lined up on the table.

'Uh, that's pretty weird,' Brian said, laughing a little.

'Take your glasses off,-' Neil said, bored, antsy, staring hard at Brian through lidded eyes. Brian looked at the cookies, and then his hand twitched up and he folded his glasses and put them on a mantle, next to an empty vase. He fidgeted, nervous, and looked around the room again.

'What's it like?' Neil said, then.

'It's blurry, and I-I can't see things properly. The world looks like it's been rained on, kind of. Anyway.'

'You don't like it,' Neil said, walked forwards and picking up Brian's glasses, ignoring the way Brian moved backwards a little. This close to him, he could hear the shallow exhales, little puffs of air. He tried the glasses on, and the world went a little fuzzy, and he narrowed his eyes, trying to see out of them. He took them off, put them back on the mantle, and looked at Brian; who was not looking at him.

'What are you gonna do with your life?' Neil said suddenly, and Brian's gaze skittered away in another direction. He was definitely avoiding eye contact with Neil. Neil thought this was by far the most interesting thing that had happened all day. All week, even.

'I...don't know. I want to take a few art classes, a-and some writing. I like writing. B-but the only thing I dreamed of as a kid,' he laughed a little, 'was finding out what happened to me. And I did that.'

'Look at me,' Neil said, and Brian looked at him, all wide blue eyes and shallow breathing.

'Are you scared or turned on?' Neil said, and Brian looked away again, reflexive and automatic.

'M-maybe both,' Brian admitted, and Neil smirked.

'Why'd you come over?'

'Why do you think? To see you. It's been a while,' Brian looked at him again, and then went to pick up his glasses. Neil put his hand on Brian's, stilling the motion. They both looked at the hand, and then Neil licked his lips.

'I sometimes want to do stupid shit to you, to see what you'll do,' Neil said suddenly, surprising himself. 'Make you scared. Run away. See what you'll let me do.'  
Brian said nothing, he looked keyed up and edgy, a muscle had jumped in his jaw.

'I'm not a good guy,' Neil said, and then reached out and unbuttoned the top two buttons on Brian's shirt. Brian just stood there, smelling like soap and shampoo, he still had his hand on the mantle, as though bracing himself.

'Neither am I,' Brian said, which wasn't the answer that Neil expected.

'Everyone thinks I am,' Brian continued, looking at Neil's chest blankly, 'but I'm not. I've wanted to do things to people. M-murder. I've thought about how I'd do it. And sometimes...' he trailed off as Neil undid two more buttons and peeled back the material, exposing Brian's chest. It was as pale as the rest of him, clean of scars, only the tiniest smattering of blonde hair. He placed his palm flat against it; hot against his cooler hand. Brian swallowed audibly.

'What?' Neil said.

'Sometimes I think I want to do things to you too. Hurt you. Talk about that summer and see what you'll do, just because I can. See how you'll react. Like some kind of science experiment. Like you're a puzzle and I can't figure you out.'

'You can't put something together if you don't have all the pieces,' Neil said, amused, and then moved his hand up and let his fingers trace the collarbone. This sensuality left him feeling bemused. He wasn't used to being the sensitive one. Usually he was the one letting himself get petted by others. And here he was thinking, _kind of hotter than I thought._

'I know,’ Brian said, his voice weak.

Neil wanted to ask Brian how he felt, if he was scared, if he should stop; but he didn't. Instead he undid the rest of Brian's shirt and just looked for a while. And then he leaned in and kissed a smooth expanse under the collarbone. Just once.  
Brian swayed, took a deep breath.

'Did you come over here for this?' Neil said, moving back, and Brian shook his head.

'I c-came to see you. I didn't expect anything. You know, it doesn't always go so well when we see each other,' Brian said, his laugh trembling and soft.

'And now you can't see me,' Neil mocked, and Brian smiled, even rolled his eyes.

'Maybe if you let me put on my glasses.'

Neil licked his bottom lip, thoughtfully, and then stepped even closer to Brian, taller than him, feeling the heat around them. His hands moved to Brian's jeans and flicked open the button easily, quickly. And then two hands on his wrist stopped him.

'W-wait,' Brian said. But his eyes were closed, instead of open, and he had a look on his face that said he wasn't far away, on another planet; he was firmly in the room, in the moment, turned on.

'Why?' Neil said, corners of his lips turning up, his fingers sliding down the zipper and liking the feel of Brian's hands encircling his wrists. They didn't even stop him. Just stayed there.

'I'm scared.'

'You think you're ever not gonna be scared, the first time this happens?' Neil said, seriously, ignoring the jeans for a moment and trailing his hands up Brian's torso. Brian's hands stayed on his wrists, and then let go, moving limply to his sides. The belly spasmed, and then Brian's mouth fell open a little when Neil traced the collarbone again with his fingertips.

'You can stop me,' Neil reminded him, as his fingers brushed down his chest, over small, pebbling nipples, and down over Brian's ribcage. Brian opened his eyes and nodded.

'I know,' he said softly, 'I probably will,' he added with a rueful smile.

'Not yet,' Neil said.

'Does it have to be against a wall?' Brian whined, and Neil laughed, because it was unexpected and real and something he hadn't even considered. He shook his head.

'Nah.' And then he picked up Brian's glasses so he wouldn't forget them, and walked to his room. Brian followed, sniffing behind him. Neil ignored the shiver of fear he had, that Brian might soon start gushing blood, or passing out, or something. He couldn't live the rest of his life thinking about that shit.  
Brian stood in his room, in the darkness, awkward. Neil didn't look at him, and instead put the glasses down on his table, then closed his bedroom door; just in case his mom came home. He put his lamp on, because he wanted some light. After all of that, he turned to face Brian, who was looking less turned on, and more terrified. Neil shook his head, and grabbed Brian's arm and pulled him over.

'Lie down,' he said, and Brian went, up on Neil's pillow, raising his knees in a semi-sitting position and looking like he was regretting his decision.

'What are you thinking?' Neil said, as he sat down next to Brian, and just touched his hair. It was soft and fluffy, and a little damp underneath. Only just showered then.

'All the things that could go wr-wrong,' Brian said, and then shook his head. 'Like me being like this.'

'I'm used to it, things going wrong,' Neil deadpanned, and Brian shifted when Neil laid alongside him. Neil watched him, feeling surprisingly calm.

'I'm not a dick,' Neil said suddenly, resting his head on his hand and looking at Brian's tense face. 'I get that this first time might suck. Or stop. Whatever. I get it.'

'I don't know how you can like me,' Brian said, easing down so that he was facing Neil, though he still wouldn't make eye contact. 'You're... looking the way you do. I've seen movies. I'm the one who has the pocket calculator and gets pushed into puddles and stuff,' Brian said, trying to sound like he was joking, despite the serious tenor of fear.

Neil ignored him and snuck his fingers underneath Brian's open shirt, and traced his palm down the torso, leaning in and kissing the soft, open mouth. He only did it once, remembering that kissing was probably out of bounds if it was done for too long, and instead kissed the underside of Brian's jaw, and then bit, softly, at the line of jawbone. Brian made a hissing sound, his legs shifted, his hand came to rest lightly on Neil's chest.

'Good?' Neil muttered in question, as he kissed at Brian's neck. Brian made a sound of acknowledgement and Neil smiled against the warm skin. His other hand was smoothing over Brian's thigh, over the top of the denim. He felt thrilled. This was good, feeling a body next to him, knowing that he wasn't being paid, that he wasn't expected to be anything he wasn't. That, even if Brian didn't want to stop, _he could_. Brian knew him, knew who he was, knew more than anyone else, and still he stayed. Neil could worry about how fucked up it was later, right now he liked listening to Brian's breathing hitch and change, liked the taste of hot skin beneath his tongue.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself, before letting his hand move from the top of Brian's thighs, to between them. Feeling the hardness that was there between layers of an open fly, and white briefs. Brian jolted, and then made a small, almost-distressed noise in the back of his throat.

'Easy,' Neil murmured, resting his hand against the heat, biting his own lip, waiting to see what would happen. After a moment, Brian relaxed a little, and then moved his own hand under Neil's shirt, scraping lightly at the skin.

Neil responded, moving his hand over the denim and then underneath it, trailing a line of kisses back up Brian's neck as he did so. His fingers moved underneath briefs, down into heat and arousal. He wrapped his hand around Brian's erection, and Brian was groaning and his head was falling down to the pillow, muffling the noise. The hand that had been holding onto Neil's torso, went limp against it.

Neil paused, this was something he could get used to.

'Gonna stop me?' he dared, and Brian said something into the pillow that was nothing coherent, and more like syllables and fabric blended together. Neil tightened his hand around Brian's dick, and then moved up, moved down, experimentally. Brian's whole body rolled into the motion, and Neil pressed his forehead into the side of Brian's head, pressed his own body closer. It surprised him, how ready and willing Brian seemed to be. How _able._ He was expecting crying, or screaming, or horrible, hideous things; and instead it was this. Even if crying and screaming came later, _this_ was a revelation.

'Not gonna stop me?' Neil said, cocky and almost gleeful, a smile in his words, his voice curling into Brian's ear, as he started moving his hand rhythmically. Brian's hips jerked, the limp hand grabbed on again, tense with hunger.

'Easy, hey,' Neil said, though whether it was to himself or to Brian, he couldn't tell. Whether it was reassurance or not, he couldn't tell. He licked Brian's ear, and wished he could see Brian's face, though he suspected it wasn't going to be moving away from pressing into the pillow any time soon. He kept moving his hand, waiting, wondering how long it would take.

Brian shifted a bit more, he moved up into the motions, at one point his short nails clawed into Neil's skin, and Neil hissed. It seemed like he was getting closer, and then suddenly Brian jerked upwards, hand shifting to grip Neil's wrist and stopping him, even hurting him.

Neil, eyes hooded, waited. Watched. Brian was wide-eyed, gasping for breath, flushed. A moment later he seemed to realise how hard he was holding Neil's wrist, and his grip relaxed a little. Neil didn't know what to do. He felt stupid, but he left his hand around Brian's dick, which was still hard.

'I don't think I can let go,' Brian said, scared.

'It's not gonna kill you,' Neil said, and Brian closed his eyes, as though he was in pain.

'I _know_ that.'

'Really?' Neil said, raising an eyebrow, moving his hand just a little, experimentally. Up once. Down once. Brian shuddered and made a high sound in the back of his throat. He didn't let go of Neil's wrist, but he didn't stop him either.

'I can't when I'm by myself. I'm an idiot to think I'd do it around anyone else.'

'It's just free-falling,' Neil said, calmly, moving his hand again, narrowing his eyes and watching Brian as his eyes closed and his head fell a little, back towards the pillow.

'You say that like...it's easy,' Brian said. Neil decided that watching Brian struggle to form complete sentences might be his new favourite thing.

'Is,' Neil said, simply. 'Shit, you fall down all the time,' he said, joking, leaning forward and brushing his lips against Brian's.

'I don't like that either,' Brian said, and Neil simply increased the speed of his hand.

'Oh, _f-fuck,_ ' Brian said, a moment later.

'It's still easy. Your body knows what to do,' Neil said, like he knew what he was talking about.

'You want me to stop?' he added, hoping that Brian said no, willing to shut everything down immediately if he said yes.

Brian said nothing. His eyes were squeezed tight, his mouth open, looking like he was somewhere between pain and pleasure and fear. Neil shook his head and wrapped a long leg around Brian's, pressed his forehead against Brian's.

'Fuck it,' he said to them both, and increased the speed and the pressure of his hand. Brian stiffened immediately, hand tightening on Neil's wrist, not pulling him away, just holding on. After all these years, Neil knew all the signs of someone who was close to blowing their load, and he knew Brian – despite his protests – was close, and he wanted desperately to be the one to push him over that edge. To drive him where he was too scared to drive himself.

He could hear his own breathing, feel his own dick pressed up against his jeans, wished he could undo the fly to relieve the pressure, but didn't dare. So instead he focused on the body against his, the feel of Brian's dick in his hand, pre-come leaking on his fingers, his own wrist getting a cramp from the awkward position. If it was anyone else, he'd have shifted, but he didn't dare chance that either.

Sounds began to fall from Brian's throat, over and over. They gusted directly into Neil's face, minty and raw and desperate. They made Neil close his eyes, and clench his teeth to stop himself from kissing him, to just hold on in the moment.

When Brian started to shake, Neil's eyes flew open in fear, even though his hand didn't stop moving. But he could feel Brian's dick growing a little in his hand, and knew what was coming. He opened his mouth to say something. To reassure. But already Brian's body was arching into his, so violent it stopped his hand from moving properly, and then pulse after pulse of come washed over his hand. Brian was trembling, all over, wet sounds pouring from his mouth now. 

Sounding like crying.

_Shit._

Neil rode out the last of Brian's jerking motions, and then gently removed his hand, wiped it on his own jeans without thinking. He wrapped his arm around Brian. It was instinctive, to hold him. And instinctive to lower his head to look at Brian's face, to see what was happening. But he couldn't tell in the dim lamplight.

'It's okay,' Neil said, still hard, and wishing he could do something about it, and knowing that now probably wasn't the time.

'Fu-uck,' Brian said again, on a long exhale, his eyes opening with a flutter, tears glimmering there, sparkling on his lashes. He sniffed, he wiped his nose and checked it. There was no blood.

'You okay?'

Brian was shaking his head, and then nodding, and then he slumped down onto the bed and for a moment Neil had thought he had collapsed. But as Neil braced and tensed for panic stations, Brian smiled.

'Y-yeah,' he said.

'Serious?'

'Uh huh.'

Neil pressed his forehead down on Brian's again, and sighed in relief. And then he withdrew and rested his head on Brian's shoulder instead, shifting his hips uncomfortably and willing his dick to get over it, because he'd be damned if he was going to give it any attention right now.

They lay like that, Brian wrapping one of his arms around Neil's back, hand curling around the shoulder, and Neil leaving one hand in Brian's hair. Brian fell asleep before Neil did, wiped out and warm. And eventually Neil relaxed against Brian, and let himself drift off as well.

His mom found them like that, and she smiled as she closed the door behind them.

________________________________________

It was still dark when Neil woke up to a muffled, whimpery sound. A shaking body next to his. And he was wide awake a moment later. Brian had shifted so that he was facing the wall, fetal position, _crying._

'Shit,' Neil said, not knowing what to do. He touched Brian's shoulder, and Brian didn't do anything, except keep crying. Quietly.

'Hey,' Neil said, his breath a mere whisper, hand squeezing Brian's upper arm, trying to pull him back. Brian resisted, curled in on himself even more, and Neil leaned over him.

'Tell me,' he said, licking his lips and scared. Having no idea how much time had passed or what was happening. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

'I'm just...' Brian trailed off, his voice nasal and thick with tears. 'I didn't know,' he finished. And Neil shook his head.

'Tell me,' he said again, because he had no idea what Brian was talking about, and because he was scared.  
Brian shifted a little, his cheeks gleamed wet in the lamplight, and his hands moved up to rub them away. His eyes were open, and unseeing, and it made Neil feel cold all over.

'Christ,' Neil said, and Brian's eyes drifted over, met his, didn't move away.

'I was thinking about it when I w-woke up,' Brian said. 'I'm...I mean, all the things he took away from me. All the things I didn't have. It's not just tonight. It's...'

But whatever it was, was too painful for Brian to finish, and his eyes squeezed shut, and fresh tears leaked out. The shaking of his body became more violent, his sobs choked up in his throat, unvoiced. Neil hugged him, absorbed the shudders, closed his own eyes and felt his toes curl with a tension he didn't understand. He didn't fully understand Brian's pain, because he didn't fully understand his own; but it still made his chest hurt, his eyes burn, and he knew whatever Brian was going through, it was bigger than just a nightmare, a bad dream.

A long time passed. It seemed like Brian would never stop crying, and Neil's face was itchy with someone else's tears, something he'd never experienced before. But Neil didn't move, he stayed there, hugged Brian, felt like he was on a ship being tossed around in a storm, even though neither of them was moving much.

And then things seemed to settle. The shudders came less often, the sobbing motions were intermittent, and Brian's breathing slowed down.

'Things aren't okay,' he said. 'Things aren't okay. And this is...you are amazing. But I'm not okay.'

'I'm sorry,' Neil said, against him. Brian squeezed Neil's shoulder.

'Everyone is sorry, except for the person who actually should be. And everyone is doing the hard work to get their lives together, except that the person who should be working the hardest is the person who actually tore our lives apart. I'm sorry. I'm...I get like this sometimes. The crying thing. When I think about it all, and I just... I think the world should be a better place than this. How naive does that sound? It's so stupid,' he said.

Neil didn't know what to say. One of Brian's hands reached up to tangle in Neil's hair, fingers scraping against the scalp like it was easy and natural. Neil shivered. He liked it. But he was melancholy too. Drained.

'He took so much from you,' Brian whispered, and Neil wanted to get up, to shake his head, to walk out. But he didn't move. Didn't want Brian's hand to stop moving in his hair.

'I know you can't agree with me,' Brian said, 'I know, because it would mean you'd have to see how much he took from you. I'm sorry,' he said, his voice becoming thicker again, teary again, 'I'm sorry I keep trying to push you into this. The hurt and the...and the...I just don't want to go through it alone, anymore.'

'Yeah,' Neil said, tired and trying to wrap his head around everything Brian had said. He knew then that Brian probably didn't have the same problem he did. Probably never ran out of words, felt empty of sentences, or even ideas. And still Brian's hand moved in his hair, and Neil resisted the urge to push his head into it, to say, 'don't stop.'

'I sh-should go home. My mom will be worried,' Brian said, though he didn't move.

Neil knew Brian's mom would be freaked.

'Stay,' he said.

And so Brian stayed.


	7. Chapter 7

The following morning, Brian called his mom and Neil lurked in the shadows, listening to him defensively try and explain why he hadn't called to say he'd be staying over. Eventually things seemed to subside, and he hung up, walked nervously back into Neil's bedroom.

'She's not happy.'

Neil raised an eyebrow. _No shit._

'I'm nineteen. I-I can do what I want. That's what Eric says.'

Brian sat down on Neil's bed and ran a hand through his tousled hair. A moment later, Neil was standing next to him, looking down, doing the same thing. It was just too appealing not to. It wasn't fair that Brian was the only one who got to do that. Brian blinked up at him, slowly, owlish. Stubble lightly grazing his jawbone. Eyes wide and still red-rimmed from a night of so much crying.

'Are we...t-together now?' Brian asked softly, and Neil paused, leaving his fingers wreathed in Brian's hair.

'I don't fucking know, do I?' Neil said. 'I hope not.'

'I don't want to date and stuff,' Brian said with a grimace like the very idea left a bad taste in his mouth. 'I'm not into that.'

'Yeah. Can you see me being into twelve red roses?' Neil said, sitting down next to Brian and nudging him.

Brian smiled and shook his head.

'I'm sorry about...' Brian waved his hand half-heartedly, to indicate his crying jag. 'Geez, you must be sick of s-seeing me at my worst.'

Neil shrugged, to indicate that he didn't mind, and then pointed in the direction of the bathroom when Brian asked if he could shower. When Brian had left the room, Neil scooted down onto the floor, opened the box with all his mementoes, the baseball cards, the _Playgirls_ , and drew out a single cassette tape. He stared at it, and then raised it to his mouth, confused, awash with a strange melancholy.

________________________________________

Neil showered afterwards, getting up from the floor, throwing the cassette down and ignoring how good and clean Brian smelled. Ignoring how it made him feel. He stayed in the blank space that had come as he'd pressed the cassette against his mouth and mentally listened to Coach's voice playing in his head. He wasn't going to let a bad mood ruin the day.

When he returned from the shower, he heard a voice coming from his room that wasn't Brian's. It was soft and muffled, a rise and fall he knew off by heart, a cadence that played in his dreams, and sometimes in his reality when he slipped back to that place. _Let's go._ He threw his door open and pressed stop on the tape player, yanking the cassette out of it and clutching it in his hand. Adrenaline made his whole body feel cold, tense.

For a moment he didn't do anything, angry and frustrated and watching his hand shake, and then Brian made a choking noise. Neil watched, in horror, as Brian collapsed onto his side, shaking and bleeding from his nose, eyes glassy, like he was having a seizure.

'Brian!' Neil shouted, and then dropped to his knees beside him, one hand curving under his cheek, tilting Brian's head, trying to make it so that he could look directly at him. 'Brian!' he said again, but Brian wasn't there at all.

With the cassette locked in his other hand, he awkwardly gathered Brian to him, and then swore softly, intensely, over and over again. He refused to think about what it all meant, or at least, he tried. Instead his brain told him, over and over again, that the Coach's voice did this to Brian. Just his _voice._

The voice that Neil had listened to yearningly, with such visceral longing; and it was doing this to Brian.  
Neil didn't understand it. He didn't understand why Brian reacted like this, and worse, he didn't understand why he didn't react with the same horror. Because now he was becoming aware that it was more normal to freak out about it. Instead, his fingers were clenched so hard around the cassette that they hurt. He couldn't let go.

Brian eventually settled, seemed to come back to himself suddenly with a whimpering noise and wet gasps. He jerked away from Neil, and stared at him from eyes gleaming wetly. Blood had trickled down onto his shirt, down into his recently washed hair, and Neil thought it was fucking pointless that he'd showered at all, since he'd gone and messed himself up again.

Brian opened his mouth to talk, but nothing came out. His lips worked a little, and then he closed his mouth again. His eyes stayed wide, horrified, and he wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. His hand shook violently.

'You shouldn't have gone through my stuff,' Neil said, unable to stop the anger that came into his voice. 'Christ, Brian, why'd you listen to that?'

'I-I don't know.' His voice was high, thready, and Neil closed his eyes, grit his teeth together. The morning after was not supposed to be like this. There were hard situations, and then there were impossible ones. He forced himself to put the cassette down, and his fingers ached as he flexed them. He grabbed the tissue box and threw it at Brian, and it hit his shoulder and fell to the ground with a hollow thud. Brian's hand reached out blindly for the tissues and he grabbed a few, raised them to his face like he wasn't quite sure what to do with them. He looked utterly shattered.

'Look, what do you want?' Neil said, in frustration. Brian took several deep breaths, stared glassily, and eventually said;

'I don't know.'

'Fuck,' Neil said. He tried to shut up the small voice inside him that told him this was Brian's fault. That Brian brought it on himself. And that he deserved whatever shit he was going through right now. He tried, but the small voice was very persistent.

' _Fuck!_ ' Neil shouted angrily. He grabbed his shoes and stormed out of the room.

________________________________________

When Neil returned to his house an hour later, feeling stressed and shaken, Brian's car was gone. Neil ignored the feeling of disappointment that came with that, and walked tiredly into the house, into his room, took a joint out of his desk drawer and lit it up.

He turned to face his window, and that was when he noticed the cassette wasn't where he left it. A quick check of the box, the cassette player, his drawers, his table...

The blood drained from Neil's face when he realised Brian must have taken it with him.

________________________________________

Neil called Eric's attic first, but Eric wasn't answering his phone and he realised that he was probably at college. So then he tried calling Brian, but his mom answered with a barely contained edge in her voice, saying that Brian wasn't home. Neil was absolutely certain she was lying from the occasional pauses that was probably her conversing with Brian. Fuck, that just pissed him off even more, that he wasn't even good enough for the little shit to talk to.

He dug some old bus schedules out of a cabinet and ran his hand over his face when he realised that he didn't know what he was going to do. Would Brian's mom even let him into the house? He knew Brian well enough to know that Brian wasn't just going to hand him back the cassette, no matter how nicely he asked. And he didn't do 'asking nicely' anyway.

He felt like a hole had been ripped up inside of him, he couldn't quite explain it. Knowing that he couldn't listen to the Coach's voice whenever he wanted – even though he hadn't listened in a while - chafed and chafed at him, and in the end he threw down the bus schedules and pressed fists into his eyes, swallowing down the sounds of desperation he wanted to make, pressing until his eyes hurt, he got a headache, until the blank place swallowed him whole.

________________________________________

Eric called him a few hours later.

'I have like...fifteen missed calls on my answering machine,' he said chirpily. 'And only two are from you. Guess who the other thirteen are from?'

'Fuck off, Preston,' Neil said weakly. He felt completely wrung out. He didn't know what had happened to him in the past few hours, but he felt like pieces of him had been shifted, thrown around a room. He felt like he'd just woken up in Brighton Beach, cataloguing his hurts and finding that things in his brain had moved and he couldn't put those things back together again.

'You want me to come get you. I'll drive over right now. But Brian... Jesus, what did you do to him?' Eric kept his voice light, almost joking, but concern for Brian needled underneath it, and Neil grit his teeth.

'Just get here.'

'Hang tight, honey, hang tight,' Eric said gently, soothingly, and hung up. Neil stared at the receiver, and then hung up the phone, going into his room and glaring at his cassette player like it could answer all of his unspoken questions.

________________________________________

It wasn't that much later, that Neil felt ready to pull his hair out.

'What the fuck?'

'I'm not taking you to his house. I thought about it. You know I normally would, but not today,' Eric was stern, kind, all of those things that sometimes made Neil just want to punch him full in the face. He didn't.

'The fucker stole from me!' Neil shouted, kicked a throw cushion on the floor, and paced the lounge, glad his mom wasn't home.

'What did he steal?'

'A cassette,' Neil said, waiting for Eric to joke about how Neil was over-reacting to the theft of some mix-tape. Eric only sighed, and then sat down at the kitchen table. The eyeliner and eye-shadow made him look like a sad clown, a melancholy performance artist.

'Wait.' Neil said flatly. 'You know?'

'I only listened to it the once,' Eric said, 'I couldn't help it, Neil. You keep some pretty weird stuff, and I was wasted, you know I don't think straight when I'm-'

Neil was shaking his head and then somehow, he was leaning weakly against a wall, hands over his face and listening to the sound of his breathing. In and out. In and out. He knew he was over-reacting. He knew something serious was going on inside of him, and he had _no idea_ what it was. Could understand himself even less than Brian, than Eric, than the rest of the whole fucking world.

'Neil?' Eric was saying, softly, standing beside him. But Neil was blocking him out, blocking everything out, wishing he could go back and undo the morning. That the cassette would still be safe in its box, that he and Brian could have left things on a good note, that he wouldn't be feeling physically weak, trying to understand why he needed that cassette so badly. Trying to understand what had been ripped away. It didn't make any _sense._

A few minutes later, the vacuum sound in his head started up. The one that meant he was going straight for the blank, hollow space that he wanted so badly. He slammed into it, through it, suddenly empty. He straightened and Eric was on the phone, mid-conversation.

'No, I know, Brian, I _know,_ but you have to come over. And you have to bring that cassette. That wasn't cool, you know that.'

Eric paused, listened, and then hung up the phone. He seemed relieved when he saw Neil looking at him.

'He's coming over.'

'Like I care,' Neil said, his voice erased of all expression. Eric sighed and looked up at the ceiling, like he was trying to martial his strength.

'Okay, fine, let's pretend that you didn't call me and leave those messages, and that you didn't just have this weird freak out, and I can tell you about the guy I have a crush on in class. How does that sound?'

'Whatever,' Neil said, tiredly, closing his eyes, feeling sick.

________________________________________

Eric went out to meet Brian when he arrived, and Neil just waited in the lounge, seated, jittery. Now he definitely felt like he had felt at Brighton Beach, his throat stopped up with his own blood. Still high.

Brian came in without Eric, who must have been waiting outside. A moment later though, Neil heard a car start up and was surprised. Eric was leaving?

Brian stood in the doorway, doing a pretty good job of looking cold and angry for someone who mostly looked scared or sweet.

'Y-you've had evidence, all this time. Evidence. I could go to the police with what you have.'

_Oh fuck no._

'Can I just have the tape back?' Neil said, too tired to argue.

'What if I told you I'd destroyed it?' Brian said, his voice grittier, and laced with a dark anger that Neil wasn't used to hearing. Neil felt himself jerk. Something hurt, deep in his gut, and he wrapped his arms around it. He knew Brian was lying. He prayed Brian was lying. He didn't even dignify the question with an answer.

'What's wrong with you?' Brian said, coming round to sit on the coffee table. Neil didn't even look at him. He thought, _like you don’t know, asshole._

'Do you know why I'm so mad at you?' Brian said, supplying the conversation when it became obvious that Neil wasn't going to participate. 'It's that we did what we did last night, and then this morning, when I was showering, you got that cassette out, you opened that box. And I realised, when I was listening to the cassette, in amongst all the st-stuff I was remembering; I realised that you still care more about _him_ than you do about anyone else. He took your childhood away from you, helped you to take away the childhoods that others could've had. And it's still him, after all this time. Not Eric, not Wendy, not your mom, not m-me.'

Neil said nothing. He couldn't disagree. He wanted to.

'Me taking the cassette, your reaction to that? It just proves it,' Brian said, his voice bitter and caustic. Neil wrapped his arms more tightly around himself, stared at nothing. Something plastic hit him in the arm, and fell onto the couch. He looked at it. The cassette, against him, so small and pathetic. He wanted to reach out and grab it, but pain still laced his gut, he was frozen. The small cassette didn't seem to solve anything now.

A pressure was building in his chest, and he changed his breathing around it. His face felt hot, flushed. His eyes burnt. He closed them.

'N-Neil?' Brian said then, sounding less certain.

Neil pushed his face into the couch, feeling the heat in his eyes become wetness. He'd think it was humiliating, if he could even think straight. He swallowed a sob, tried to change his breathing even more so that it wasn't obvious that he was crying.

Brian stood up, and Neil thought, _that's right, fuck off and leave._ But instead Brian came and moved the cassette so that it was on Neil's torso, and then perched awkwardly on the small piece of space left between Neil's body and the edge of the couch. He touched the edge of Neil's face, the cheekbone that wasn't pressed into the fabric. Brian's fingers against his skin was so feather-light, it almost tickled. Neil grit his teeth.

'Fuck off,' Neil said, pretending that his mouth pressed up against the material was the only thing that made his voice sound so uneven. The hand didn't move.

'I'm sorry,' Brian said, and Neil ignored him. He had no words.

They sat, static in their tension, for what seemed like ages. Neil thought the pressure would go away, but instead it built and built until a real sob escaped him, and then another. He was horrified, but Brian didn't seem surprised in the slightest. And then Neil was clutching the cassette in one hand and Brian's arm in another as he leaned into the warm body that was strong against him, crying in a way he could never remember crying before.

________________________________________

Neil leaned weakly against Brian, who was stroking his hair. They were watching and not-watching television. They'd talked, about anything except what Brian had confronted him with earlier, and now Neil just wanted to be in a place that was warm and fuzzy, and not cold and filled with jagged edges.

'So you've got all this money saved. You thought about getting a car?' Brian said, his voice whispery soft, like he was soothing a sick child.

'No.'

'Eric told me he was thinking of moving out the other day, getting his own place. He wanted me as a room-mate, but...I don't think I could work and do college at the same time, and deal with...you know. You could move out with Eric.'

'Huh.'

Neil thought, _Eric didn't tell me he was thinking of moving out._

He sighed, closed his eyes, and wished that Brian could just keep touching his hair forever, until he died and was in the ground.

A moment later, he had an impulse to do something, and he got up and walked out of the lounge; holding up a hand when Brian opened his mouth to protest. He came back, nervous, with another shoebox, one that rustled with papers and receipts. The filaments of words and sentences he wrote down about his life, himself, what he'd experienced. He clutched it as a settled back on the couch, settled his head in Brian's lap, and then he handed it over.

Brian took it silently with one hand, and moved his other hand into Neil's hair again; it rested there, still and not moving. Neil waited, tense and breathless, as Brian opened the shoebox and looked at the papers silently. Then he took out one, read it, and took a deep breath. He took out another, and then another, and Neil closed his eyes and couldn't say anything at all. These were his secret words and sentences, things he thought that he didn't want to know he thought. Feelings he wanted to forget he felt.

'You...' Brian trailed off, and Neil finished the sentence silently at least ten times with things like 'you idiot,' 'you loser,' 'you fucking pathetic retard,' waiting in the beat for Brian to speak again.

'You've been...how long have you been d-doing this for?'

'A little after I met you,' he said. Brian's hand shifted and then tangled in Neil's shaggy hair, affectionately. Neil stared at the coffee table, relieved.

Brian went through the whole shoebox, carefully placing each read statement onto the space on the couch next to him. It took well over an hour, and sometimes there were pauses, and at one point, Brian's breath hitched like he might be about to cry. But he didn't, and he read all of them. When he stopped, he placed them all back in the shoebox and closed its lid. It made a scratchy cardboard sound, which was barely audible against the force of Brian's sigh.

'Thank you,' he said.

'Why?' Neil said, even though he wanted to be thanked. Even though he was glad that Brian seemed to realise how important this was to him.  
'I don't know why. Lots of reasons.'

'Well, now you know how fucked up I am.'

Brian laughed.

'I always kind of knew. Even before I met you, when you were just memories and things that Eric told me. Even before then, when I saw your face in that photo, and started remembering bits and pieces.'

'You don't think I'm like a mons...you don't hate me?' Neil turned so that he was looking up at Brian's chin and jaw. Brian looked down at him. He shook his head.

They stayed like that, in front of the television, until Brian had to leave for class. Neil curled up on the couch, shoebox of secrets and words in his arms, and fell asleep.

________________________________________

He and Eric went to the park a few days later at Neil's request. They sat in the car and stared out at a girl playing with a golden retriever, throwing the ball, over and over, the dog cavorting in delight every time. Neil turned and looked at Eric.

'I could move out with you,' he said, like they were in the middle of a conversation. Eric looked at him in confusion, and then half-smiled.

'Honey, now, the rules are; no tricks after dark and be home by eleven.'

Neil laughed a little, and waited for Eric's serious answer.

'What about your mom?' Eric said gently, and Neil nodded, because he'd be thinking about this himself, all day, in fact – all the time – since he'd last seen Brian.

'I dunno,' he said, sagely.

'You're serious though, aren't you? You want to move out? You can afford it?'

Neil felt a strange sense of satisfaction as he nodded.

'Yeah,' he said, smiling.

________________________________________

It wasn't easy, his mom reacted terribly to his announcement that he was thinking of moving out with Eric. And it took him several nights of lying on his bed, confused, to sort it all out. In the end he decided he couldn't live at home forever, no matter how much he loved her. He needed his own space. It might be good for him.

He called Wendy, who didn't believe it was him at first because he never called, but when she heard the news she made a sound of excitement followed by a droll; 'it's about fucking time.' Then she talked about everything that was happening in her life, and a couple of hours later, his ear sore and sweaty, he managed to get off the phone.

Brian and Neil were avoiding each other, though only because Brian's mom had gone somewhat crazy at Brian's erratic behaviour. From staying out late, to sleeping over friend's places without letting her know. Neil amused himself by imagining the look on her face if he ever said; 'Brian's probably fuckin' queer, Mrs Lackey.' He figured her eyes would probably drop right out of her head. But he was kind of scared of her too. He didn't know many women who owned guns, worked in the prison system. He was pretty sure she'd hit him – best case scenario - if he told her. He didn't envy Brian negotiating that situation.

But he had his own shit to worry about too. He'd started having nightmares. They were strange. It started out like it was going to be a good dream. Some of his best moments with Coach. And then eventually in the dream he'd get a strange feeling he couldn't identify. And when he woke up, his face would be wet and he'd just stare up at the ceiling, hating that he was becoming some sort pathetic piece of shit about the whole thing and not really understanding why.

He thought about his future with Brian, and most of the time, it left him confused and lost. He didn't really want a long-term future with anyone. He wasn't about futures. And what kind of future could he have with someone like Brian anyway?

But when Brian called him and asked if Neil would like to catch up, Neil said yes.

________________________________________

Brian was all shadows under his eyes and scruffy hair when Neil opened the door. He dropped his backpack with a careless hand and sat down at the kitchen table, looking exhausted.

'Shit,' Neil said. Brian offered a weak smile that was more grimace than anything.

'My mom...' he said, 'and other stuff.'

Neil leaned into the doorframe and waited. Brian sat in the silence they wove together, and eventually took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. Neil was struck at how childlike the gesture was. The curled fist, the tired movements. It made him look vulnerable.

'I-I've been thinking it's just too hard,' Brian said with a small, self-deprecating laugh. 'We can't keep doing this without my mom finding out. She thinks you're a bad influence.'

'Can't fucking imagine why,' Neil deadpanned. Brian smiled then. A real one. It scattered under a more sombre expression, eyes turning down to the table.

'I can't give you anything more than I've given you,' Brian said. 'I can't...we c-can't...' he clenched his fist on the table and pursed his lips. 'I can't even say it. I can't give you that. I don't want to. Probably with anyone. Probably ever. You know.'

Neil did nothing, said nothing, waited. He'd learnt a long time ago that if he provided silence, other people would provide noise. And it gave him a chance to sort his own thoughts out.

'And I'm thinking about leaving Hutchinson,' Brian said softly, 'finding someone who can help me; I'm not going to find them here.'

'I've helped you,' Neil said helplessly. Brian looked at him, but behind the glasses, Neil couldn't tell exactly what was in his expression.

'I've spent my entire life looking for answers, Neil, I can't stop now. I can't get complacent because you're nice to me.'

'You can't afford to move,' Neil said flatly, pushing away the blank place, trying to stay in the moment.

Brian nodded.

'I thought I could leave school...get a job.'

'You...' Neil stopped himself from voicing the accusations that were pushing their way out of his chest. He took a breath. Then another. 'Do you really think there's some endpoint where if you find the right answer it's not gonna fuck you up anymore? That if the right person says the right thing... what? Haven't you been spending so much of your time telling me it doesn't work that way? I thought you liked school, and the art classes.' _And me_ , he didn't say. 'You're gonna give up everything you like because it's hard?'

Brian laughed under his breath, a bitter sound. He was looking at his hand on the table now, and wouldn't make eye contact anymore. Neil sighed.

'Fine.'

Brian looked up, shocked.

'Wh-what?'

'Fine,' Neil shrugged. 'Why would I stop you? I'd be a fucking hypocrite if I did. I'm, what...I fucking excel at running away from what's important. I recommend it as an escape plan. Christ, it's always worked for me,' he said.

Brian subsided into silence.

'But for the record? I don't need to fuck you, to spend time with you,' Neil said, his voice sounding brittle in the room.

After a few minutes of silence, Brian got up and walked over to Neil. Neil thought Brian might touch him, apologise, say something, but instead he leaned down and picked up his backpack. He looked back once before walking out, closing the door quietly behind him, as whispery as his voice.


	8. Chapter 8

Eric was swinging his way into rooms, inspecting the property with unrestrained excitement. Neil hung back in the lounge, because even though he thought moving out could be good, he didn't have any need to be picky or choosy. He could live anywhere. He could sleep on anything. If Eric liked it, if there was a place he could lay his head, he'd take it.

Eric was far choosier. He declared that the bathroom was the size of a closet to the real estate agent, and then dragged Neil out with him, shaking his head in disgust.

On the way to the second place, as Neil read out directions, Eric decided to speak about something other than 'Joe-the-boy-from-college.'

'He wants you to ask him to stay.'

'What?' Neil said, blankly.

'Brian. He wants you to say, 'stay, because I _looove_ you,' Eric melodramatically stated, and then shrugged. 'Or something to that effect.'

'He doesn't know me very well,' Neil said, stretching his arms and then calling out another direction.

'He thinks he's not worth you,' Eric said quietly, 'you should hear him talk about it. Because he can't have sex. I mean I get it, you must hate that.'

'No,' Neil said, surprising himself. It surprised Eric too, because after Eric pulled up beside the home they were supposed to look at, he didn't turn off the engine, and he just sat there looking at Neil in surprise. Neil shook his head after a moment, and laughed. 'I don't,' he said.

'I'm speechless. You've rendered me speechless,' Eric said. Then he turned off the engine. 'Why don't you hate that?'

Neil looked sidelong at Eric. He shrugged.

'Because I haven't really wanted it much since New York anyway,' Neil said with a wry grin. 'I know, right?'

'Does Brian know?'

'I told him. He probably doesn't believe me. But yeah, I told him.'

Eric opened the car door, but before getting out, he turned back to Neil and raised his eyebrows to indicate that he was still surprised. And then he closed the door behind him and went to swing his way through another shell of a house.

________________________________________

Neil went to visit Brian at his home a couple of days later, he got Eric to drop him off. Brian's mom almost didn't let him in, hesitating and glaring at him without saying anything, long enough that Neil thought 'Christ, she is gonna shoot me, and it's gonna be all over the news,' but then she stepped backwards and closed the door after him. Neil thought if any person was ever gonna knife him in the spine, it'd be her, and it'd be right then.

He entered Brian's room and closed the door behind him. Brian was on his bed, on his stomach, reading a book on something sciencey. He turned, saw Neil, and his eyes widened with surprise. He put the book down and went to get up, but Neil sat down on the bed quickly and placed a hand on Brian's shoulder, keeping him facing his own bedspread.

'Neil, wh-what are you doing-'

'Shut up,' Neil interrupted, before moving his palm down Brian's spine, from his neck to the curve of his ass. Brian shuddered, his head dropped forward a little, and he made a wet sound with his mouth when Neil did it again.

'Your mom's gonna kill me,' Neil said.

'What did you do?' Brian said breathlessly, as Neil trailed two fingers down his spine now, firmly.

'I came over.'

'Oh. Yeah,' Brian said, getting it. He tilted his head to the side and shook his head. 'I'm meant to be studying.'

'So study,' Neil said, sneaking his hand underneath Brian's grey sweater and skimming his fingers along the spine again, and again, until Brian's eyes closed and his nostrils flared. Neil could feel the shakiness of Brian's breathing under his palm and it was _awesome._ He honestly hadn't planned on doing anything like this when he'd thought of coming over.

'Neil...' Brian trailed off, biting his lip when Neil's hand curved around his side and then up over his chest, touching a nipple lightly.

'I mean she's gonna kill me anyway, right?' Neil said. He shifted so that his legs were on the bed, and he had better leverage. 'Does your mom knock before she comes in?'

Brian nodded.

Neil echoed the gesture and then straddled Brian on his bed, looking down at his blonde hair, the wrinkled sweater, and the small patch of bare skin he could see. Brian tensed and made to turn around, but Neil stilled him.

'I think you're lying,' Neil said softly, as he now snaked both hands underneath Brian's sweater and touched his chest, listening to the short exhales, feeling his heart pounding beneath his fingers.

'A-about what?' Brian managed, and then shivered when Neil pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck.

'I think you're lying about wanting to leave Hutchinson. I don't think you want to go. And you're telling me shit about what you can and can't give me. Your nose isn't bleeding right now, is it?'

Brian shook his head, sniffed spasmodically.

'N-no.'

'I've got you pinned to your own bed, hands all over you, and as far as I can tell, you're pretty into it.'

Brian said nothing, and Neil grit his teeth, wondering where his own attitude was coming from. Maybe he was just truly sick of being jerked around. Maybe he did want more from Brian. He couldn't tell.

He snaked one determined hand between Brian's legs, lifting his thighs up a little to get access, and felt hardness against his fingers. He closed his eyes. Brian's head dropped forward, he made a tiny moan into the bedspread.

'Your mom could come in at any moment, and what would she say?' Neil whispered softly. 'If she knew her son was queer, and into what has to be Hutchinson's biggest slut since...well, since fuck knows when.'

Neil felt feverish as he used his hand on Brian's shoulder to show him that he wanted him to turn. Brian shifted so that he was on his back. His glasses were fogged up, and his mouth was parted. His eyes were wide, staring directly at Neil, and he still didn't say anything.

'Stop me, Brian,' Neil said, moving his hand to undo Brian's jeans. Brian didn't stop him, though his eyes flickered to the door once. And then those eyes closed when Neil ground his palm down before wrapping his hand around briefs and dick all at once.

'I get it,' Neil said, moving his palm and feeling damned powerful when Brian's mouth widened even more, like he'd be making a sound in other circumstances. 'I get the appeal of being a fucking coward. I'm one. But if you leave Hutchinson, that's all you'll be. A fucking coward. Too scared of himself and his family and his friends to stick it out. I thought you were cooler than that.'

Brian swallowed audibly, his fists clenched into the bedspread.

Neil stopped, moved his hands back up to Brian's, grabbed them and interlocked his fingers through them. Bracing himself, he ground himself into Brian's hardness, and smiled a little at the sensation of it. Brian arched up, but shook his head at the same time.

'We can't,' Brian said. Though it looked like he really didn't agree with what he was saying. Neil got off anyway, stood up, went to sit down at Brian's desk.

Brian lay dazed for a moment, and then sat up wincing. He shifted his legs and then grabbed a pillow and placed it over his lap. Neil snickered.

'She knows,' Brian said then. 'I-I told her. About me, liking...not women.'

'Fuck,' Neil said, suddenly forgetting about his hard-on. _Jesus take the wheel, she really was gonna shoot me._

'And I told her about...' He waved his hand and made a pained expression to indicate everything else, the amorphous past, and Neil shook his head in disbelief. Something he'd never been able to do with his mother. Never _wanted_ to do.

'She wants to find him. Says she can, with you know, her job and stuff. I asked her not to.'

Brian shifted uncomfortably again and then sighed.

'She doesn't like you, but she's dealing with it. I decided...I decided I shouldn't leave Hutchinson.'

Neil's expression didn't change, he remained staring at Brian with the same intensity.

'I don't understand,' Brian started, and then stopped, offering Neil a rueful smile, 'I don't understand how I can still be turned on after saying all that.'

Neil found a grin.

'Men paid me good money for that shit.'

'But I don't want to do anything else here, while my mom is home.'

''Kay.'

Brian put his head in his hands and groaned.

'I think you're a tease.'

'I think you're not half as scared of all this shit as you were, hey,' Neil said.

The smile that Brian offered to him was breathtaking with the strength of its hope. Neil was convinced he could have lived on that alone.

________________________________________

It could never be that easy.

Neil's nightmares became curling tendrils in his waking life, sudden shocks like unwanted electricity when he least expected it. When he was going through stock to make sure it was fresh enough. When he was rolling a joint. When he was jogging in the park.

They left him breathless, sometimes even heaving for air, and while he got himself under control quickly, it left him with a strange, disconcerting sensation. He loathed it. He sunk himself into alcohol and drugs.

For a while, he didn't see anyone who wasn't an employee or a dealer.

________________________________________

The first night in the new place, Neil settled down on his new bed, in his new room, after having said goodnight to Eric; who of course had sing-songed an elaborate good evening followed by an affectionate hug. Neil hoped that wouldn't be what he'd have to look forward to every night.

He looked at the darkness that surrounded him, the shadows in the corners, with his half-lidded eyes.

He woke up to someone saying his name. The light was blazing. When he realised who it was, he sat up suddenly.

'Eric?' he said, stupidly.

Eric was staring at him, wide eyed, hair frozen into strange angles from sleep and product.

'You were having a bad dream,' Eric said, breathing quickly, an old school woodwind recorder in his hand. Neil squinted at it, and Eric gazed down at it, shame-faced.

'I thought we were being broken into or something,' he explained, shrugging.

'Fuck,' Neil said, running hands through his hair and trying to quell the dread that clamped across his chest like one of those blood-sucking parasites from the horror they'd watched a few nights ago.

'What was it about?' Eric said.

Neil looked at his fingers, clenched them when he realised they were shaking.

'Maybe New York. I dunno.'

'Want me to call Brian?'

'Why?' Neil said flatly, 'so you can deal with both of us falling apart?'

Eric sighed.

'I'll deal with it, Preston,' Neil managed, but his voice was weak, and he was fighting the urge to go home. To go back _home_ where his mom was. Not live in this stupid house, with stupid nosey Eric, who always wanted to _know._ And he found himself baffled by it all too. Did he have nightmares like this at home? Did his mom lay awake listening to them? Why hadn't she ever told him?

'I'm down the hall. I mean it. If you need me. Just down the hall. Like, a few steps. You know how much I love company. Right?' Eric was talking in stops and starts, pointing in the direction of his room, looking awkward and out of place.

Neil didn't have any energy for it. He lay back down and faced the wall, offering his back to Eric. He knew it was callous. He knew his friend deserved better.

He couldn't figure any of it out.

________________________________________

His work didn't suffer, because Neil found it oddly soothing to throw himself into that, when he couldn't be high or drunk. His boss knew something was up, but left him alone, gave him space. His staff had no idea, because they lived in their own little worlds, lived their own little lives.

Sometimes he watched them surreptitiously, and he wondered about them. He wondered if any of them were like him. He looked for signs. There was one guy there who was his age, who grew up in Hutchinson like him, who had played for the Panthers the same summer he had.

Neil ripped himself up on lunchbreaks sometimes, wondering if he was one of the kids that he and Coach had invited home.

He didn't think so, but he couldn't be sure. He hadn't cared about any of those fucking kids until he'd met Brian.

And until then, they'd just been faces who had taken away the vital attention he wanted.

Now he just ran repeat records of thoughts through his head about it. _Is he one? Does he remember?_ Followed by, _why the fuck does it matter? I can't do shit about it._

He wanted to blame Brian for it all. Brian's picking and getting under his skin, but he just couldn't. Every time he tried, he imagined those wide eyes, and worse, remembered him shaking violently beneath him that night he cried, and then remembered him shaking violently against him that night he screamed; _'LIKE THIS?'_ , and Neil just couldn't pin it on him. He couldn't.

But he couldn't pin it anywhere else either.

He thought out of all of the things that would drive him crazy, it wouldn't be some dumb kid with glasses. Or some dumb fuck from Brighton Beach.

________________________________________

He turned up at the park for his jog, and Brian was there already, sitting on a bench where Neil usually started his stretching. He had his backpack, his journal, some things never seemed to change.

'I bet you've been waiting here all day, to catch a glimpse of me,' Neil mocked, smirking. Brian ducked his head, shrugged.

'I've only been here ten minutes. But you believe what you want to.'

'I will, thanks.'

Neil stood in front of him, looked down. Brian looked up at him, his face creased up because the sun was in his eyes. Neil shifted, and Brian's face smoothed out in relief.

'What you want, Lackey?'

'How-how long have you...' Brian paused, took a deep breath, 'how long have you been having bad dreams for?'

'Fuck me. That fucking little shit,' Neil rolled his eyes.

'What sort of things do you dream about?'

'Jesus, seriously? You came to talk to me about that? You can't fucking fix it.'

Brian looked impatient, like a fly was buzzing around him.

'Y-yeah, you could be like that. Or you could just tell me, since you probably will eventually. That's how it usually goes.'

Neil opened his mouth, and Brian interrupted before he could speak;

'And don't tell me I'm not your therapist either.'

Neil rolled his eyes as if to say 'wasn't gonna,' when in actual fact, that was the first retort that had sprung to mind.

He walked a few steps so that Brian could turn and not be staring at the sun anymore. He sat down on the bench next to Brian, felt the cool breeze around him, kicked his shoes off and buried his toes into the grass.

'It's not any one thing,' Neil said quietly, staring off into nothing. 'I think, maybe, Brighton Beach. What happened that night. Not Coach, right? I mean I've had a few dreams with...but I think the real bad ones are Brighton Beach.'

Brian shifted so that he was close to Neil, so that they were literally side by side. It was a brave move, Neil thought, to do that in public, where anyone could see them, shout 'FAGS!' It was the kind of boldness that Neil liked. He took a deeper breath, relaxed a little.

'That guy who beat you and raped you,' Brian said. It wasn't even a question.

'Yup.'

'You had bruises from that time, when we met at your place. Christmas.'

'Whatever,' Neil said.

'You've never talked much about it. Except...to say you thought you were going to die and that...you thought you deserved it.'

He squeezed his eyes shut at that, because damn, really, had he said that? And did Brian have to remember it? And then actually bring it up? He folded his arms, glared ahead, because as usual, he had no idea where this was gonna go now. A fucking can of worms, sitting next to Brian, letting him run the conversation.

'I was thinking, the other day, that m-maybe one day, I could see us, you know. You know. Doing...' He made a pained noise in the back of his throat. 

'Not any time soon, o-obviously. And then I thought that...unless you were in one of your moods, it's just not gonna happen, is it? I mean, I'm right aren't I? You can't either, can you?'

'One of my moods?' Neil said, arching a brow.

'Y-you know how you get. When you're bored.'

Neil grunted in the back of his throat. He did know.

'You got a problem if I can't?' Neil said, his tone clipped, edging towards hostile.

Brian laughed.

'Are you k-kidding? _Me?_ '

'Who would've thought it, the great whore of Hutchinson, who can't fuck.' Neil announced, feeling the bitterness in the back of his throat, an utter sense of failure. Because seriously, _seriously,_ out of all the ways it could've gone, this was a level of shit that he couldn't even predict. He saw himself dying in a hostel of AIDs one day. He'd actually started to come to terms with it. He didn't see himself unable to fuck because of one fuck gone wrong. Crippled by nightmares. Gangly kids with recorders coming to his defence in the middle of the night.

'I don't mind,' Brian said gently, leaning his forehead against Neil's shoulder and grabbing onto his forearm with two warm hands. 'I wish you weren't having nightmares though. I know how much they... I'm sorry,' he volunteered.

'S'not your fault,' Neil said, looking down at the pale hands wrapped around his tan arm.

'I can still be sorry,' Brian said even softer now, like he was whispering a secret that no one else was allowed to hear, even though no one was around them anyway.

'Yeah,' Neil said.


	9. Chapter 9

Neil knew there were a lot of dumb fucks in Hutchinson, but what he didn't know was that every single one of them was determined to end up working in his section at the burger place. He gained something approaching sympathy for all the managers and supervisors of all the low end fast-food joints in possibly the whole world, they seemed to be the only people on the frontline of a war against stupidity, and he didn't feel especially suited to being a part of it. After all, he knew – better than anyone – that he was one of those dumb fucks himself.

He thought, or hoped, that his own idiocy made him better at training them. He lost his patience often. They showed up late. They didn't show up at all. They handed in their notice. They moved out of town. And it wouldn't seem possible that people could fuck up flipping burger patties, but Neil knew enough about humanity to know that not only was it possible, but sometimes he had to deal with it every goddamned shift.

But his boss was right; the delegation was getting easier. It was easier to train people after he'd trained the first four. He started to realise the things they absolutely needed to know on the first day, and the shit they'd pick up on the way. He learned that if you were smart and your boss respected you, you'd get paid more. He learned that he could be smart when someone gave him a chance to be.

He started to suspect that his boss kind of had a soft spot for him and – outside of his mom – he was probably the only adult in his entire life who'd ever shown him any affection without sex being part of the exchange. He didn't think about that much, but it lurked in the back of his mind.

Another problem; he had to keep reminding himself that he was an adult now. He was doing adult things. But then, he'd been doing adult things all his life. Sex was an adult thing, and he'd been a dab hand at that. Once upon a time, anyway. Aside from the occasional rush of horniness when he was around Brian, he was dismayingly not interested in anyone else. He tried not to think about this much either.

He came home smelling like grease and suddenly knew why shampoo had a 'rinse and repeat' instruction, because he needed to do that two, even three times to get all the oil out of his hair. Eric had gotten him some boutique conditioner, and told him to use it so often that Neil finally started, and then he started getting it for himself. He'd always been aware of fashion and vanity, to a degree, but Eric made him aware of self-care in a way that mattered to him. He liked the minty, fresh smell of the conditioner. He liked that it stopped his hair feeling like straw as a result of all the shampooing it now needed.

Also, Eric didn't exactly yell at him when he squeezed toothpaste from the middle of the tube, instead of the end; but he raised his eyebrows and then shook his head in a powerful show of disappointment and condescension.

'You can't tame me, Preston!' he'd shouted to Eric's back, as he walked away, but Eric hadn't said anything and Neil had changed the way he squeezed toothpaste out. Well, when he remembered, anyway.

He got so tired of listening to the rock-pop trash that was played over the speakers at work, that he got himself a chunky CD and cassette player, purchased Nirvana's _Nevermind_ and Aphex Twin's _Selected Ambient Works 85-92_ and listened to them through his headphones on repeat to purge the sound of Bono from his ear drums. Eric didn't have a high tolerance for Nirvana, but he liked Aphex Twin well enough, and soon they started a mutually satisfying collection of CDs and had to remember to turn the music off before 10.00pm or they'd piss off the neighbours more than they already did.

So, during the day, the routines continued. Eric studied and worked, Neil worked, they fell into a pattern where Eric cleaned almost the entire house and Neil turned out to be surprisingly fussy about doing the washing and the ironing, possibly because of how bad his clothing smelled if he didn't wash it regularly. Eric cooked most nights, Neil cooked mac and cheese when Eric felt too lazy to make anything else. Neil refused to eat burgers, saying he couldn't smell anything else but the fucking grease, so they ate tacos and pizza and other forms of takeout more than was probably good for them.

________________________________________

At night, however, things were far less settled. Neil had nightmares and flashbacks masquerading as nightmares so often that Eric eventually purchased himself live concert strength earplugs.

That, in turn, meant Eric slept through his alarm every morning, so Neil was now in the habit of setting his own alarm so that he could wake up Eric on the mornings he had to get out early. Neil would begrudge him of this, except he was bewildered and stripped bare with guilt at the idea that he'd changed Eric's sleeping patterns in this way. And then he'd slump back to bed on the mornings he didn't have a shift and go back to sleep to catch up on rest.

Neil had 'loud nights' and 'quiet nights,' but the nightmares came every night. He hated them. He tried to comfort himself by remembering Coach saying, 'don't ever let anyone tell you that it's wrong,' but his body wouldn't stop telling him and he wanted to shut it up, and he tried; he tried with pot and with music and with chain smoking outside in the cold and with staying up too late and picking up more shifts even at lower pay and working himself into the ground and he even tried avoiding Brian.

Nothing worked. The nightmares came and were terribly repetitive. They all followed a theme. Something good was happening and then slowly or suddenly, he realised that the something good was actually something bad, and he didn't like it after all. Sometimes the nightmares were accompanied by real events from his past, and not all of them were connected to Coach. He dreamed about Brighton Beach more often than he cared to admit. It was ten kinds of fucked up and he knew it.

Late one Friday night he couldn't sleep, and all he wanted to do was sleep. It shouldn't have been so goddamned hard.

He wandered through the house; Eric was out god knew where. He wandered into his room, sifted through his baseball cards, went through work training manuals and played with the pens in his desk and finally clutched at the cassette. It has his name on it. Coach made it for him.

The familiar clicks of a cassette player opening and closing again. Sounds of his own microphone jack sliding into the slot, so he can listen without bothering anyone else, so that the voice sounded more intimate in his ears. Like Coach was right there next to him. Like the good old days. He'd never admit to anyone else that he was seeking comfort, because he hadn't admitted it to himself.

He listened to the sound of Coach and exhaled deeply as the voice washed over him. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against his hands. It was working. It was working.

And then it stopped working. The nausea came first, it crept up through his organs and settled low in his stomach and flooded his mouth with saliva. It wasn't the hungry saliva of knowing some john was going to suck him off, it was bitter and filled with horror.

He didn't even have time to take the headphones off his head, they simply ripped away and clattered against the CD player as he shot up and bolted to the toilet and threw up dinner and dessert and bile. He was shaking. It had come over him so quickly that he told himself he had a bad case of food poisoning. That was all.

He walked back into his room and stared at the cassette whirling gently away in the player and felt like it was poison. Nausea rose again and he pressed the back of his hand to his mouth.

This was fucked up. It was a sign that he'd spent too long in Hutchinson. He was becoming as stupid as everyone who lived there.

He toed on his sneakers, put on a sweater, some gloves to protect against the cold, a jacket and then headed out. He remembered to lock the door up behind him, and then wandered aimless. His breath misted in front of him; it was a dry, cool night. One of those chilly spring evenings which still had the bite of winter hanging on.

At least an hour was spent in that strange but familiar blank space he sometimes occupied, so it was with some surprise that he found himself outside Brian's house. The lights were off downstairs, but Brian's room was lit up by a lamp. He thought that Brian was probably reading instead of jacking himself off, because that was the kind of person Brian was.

He hunted around for some small rocks and then threw one up at the window. He expected to miss, but the first one landed with a _tink!_ The second, too.

'Fuck me, I've still got it. Fuckin' team star player,' he muttered to himself.

Brian's pale face peeked ghostly from behind the curtains, and his eyes widened when he saw Neil standing down on his front lawn in the dark. He held up a finger to indicate 'wait a minute' and then disappeared from the window. It ended up being about five minutes before Brian carefully closed the front door behind him. And then Neil watched amused as he actually tiptoed theatrically across the wet grass at the front of his house. A spy rugged up in a jumper, a thick jacket, a scarf and tracksuit pants.

'You look fuckin' ridiculous,' Neil said, and Brian narrowed his eyes.

'Shh! Let's...go this way,' he said, and then walked past Neil, his desperation to not wake up his mom making him uncharacteristically bold. Neil sympathised. Brian's mom was terrifying. She was terrifying even when she was in a good mood; not that Neil had ever seen that himself, he'd only heard rumours.

'D-do you have any idea what time it is?'

'I dunno, late I guess,' Neil said, looking at his wrist and remembering that he'd taken his work watch off, because even the straps were starting to smell like rancid fat. The smell worked its way into everything. Even deep inside his ears and up his nose. He'd never given much of a damn about personal hygiene, but then he'd liked smelling like sex and sweat and cum. Beef fat? Not so much.

'What-what's up?' Brian said, jerking his scarf off and holding it in his hand when he realised that he'd rugged up too much for the weather.

Neil opened his mouth to answer and then looked over at Brian. He seemed nervous for some reason, as they walked side by side. Brian stared firmly down at the pavement and refused to look up, and Neil thinned his lips, trying to figure it out. In the end, he decided just to ask.

'You okay? Did I interrupt you or something?'

'No, no, um, it's just...this just reminds me of that night, a little,' Brian laughs soft and under his breath, 'doesn't it? That night when-'

'Got it,' Neil said, abruptly. Of course he remembered. That night when they were illicitly breaking into Coach's house, except that Coach didn't live there anymore, and it was cold but not overly cold. Neil felt the phantom weight of Brian's head in his lap, shoulders leaning against him. He felt imagined hair, as it slipped through his fingers, as he tried desperately to soothe the trembling boy against him.

They didn't talk for a little while, but then Brian asked him what was up again, repeating his earlier question. He seemed more okay now, actually looking up and making eye contact, while Neil stared off at some invisible point in the distance.

'I'm just tired. I'm just tired all the time,' he said, and realised how true it was. Even now, all he wanted to do was sleep, and he'd gone and fucked it up. He was tired of wanting to sleep when he was awake, only to lie down and stare restlessly up at the ceiling. He never used to have a problem with falling asleep. It was always something that came easily to him.

Brian said nothing, and Neil began to feel unsettled and itchy. He kept talking.

'I don't know what to do with myself,' he added.

Brian looked down at the scarf in his hands and remained silent.

'What the fuck were you doing when I visited? Why were you still up?' He sounded accusatory, but Brian simply shrugged like he hadn't spotted the tone.

'Just reading some stuff. A book on cartooning, actually. Want to get into the art a little more.'

'I knew it,' Neil said, and then when Brian looked up, Neil grinned. 'I knew you'd be reading instead of, y'know, anything else.'

Brian looked like he couldn't tell if this was a compliment or an insult, he squinted behind his ridiculous glasses, and then ran a hand nervously through his hair. And Neil wanted to follow the movement with his own hands, he always did these days, when Brian did it. His right hand twitched, and he shoved it deep into his pocket and sighed hard.

He'd had his hand down Brian's pants, he knew the tense and flex of muscles when he came, and Brian knew him in exactly the same way. And here they were, walking like they were acquaintances, like they'd hardly gotten to know each other at all.

Brian seemed to know the streets as well as he did, which shocked him. He angled towards certain streets and away from certain areas just like Neil did, and Neil tried to reconcile the image of this geek doing anything other than studying in his room like a good boy. He imagined Brian taking to the streets, roaming around, wondered if they'd crossed each other's paths before he'd left for New York.

They were heading towards a small park, so small it didn't even have swing sets or anything much for kids to do. It was a place to pick up, to exercise your dog, to jog in an attempt to get fit.

'I-' Neil started, and then trailed off. He didn't know how to finish the sentence. _I listened to Coach and it made me spew up my fuckin' dinner._ What would he say? He could imagine Brian looking vindicated or pleased about it, and Neil didn't know how to convey the terror he'd felt, the continual terror at his world turning topsy-turvy around him in slow motion. He didn't want to make it into a big deal, he certainly didn't want Brian to make it into a big deal. He didn't want to hear that he should see a therapist again. There were so many things he didn't want. And yet here he was, and he knew it was ridiculous, because he'd gone to Brian in the early, black hours of the morning for a reason, and all they'd done was exchange a handful of sentences and nothing more.

'Bad nights are the worst,' Brian said, soft. He said it like he understood, and for some reason that made Neil angry. Brian probably did understand. What he didn't get was why Brian's kindness got on his nerves like this.

It seemed he wasn't going to be comforted at all, tonight.

'You still have them?' Neil said. 'You end up dreaming about something else for a change?'

Brian scuffed at the grass as they walked into the park.

'S-sometimes. Sometimes I don't remember my dreams.'

'Whatever,' Neil said, frustrated. His hands clenched into fists in his pockets. He didn't know what he wanted, but he was almost certain this wasn't it.

'Aren't you gonna say something to make me feel better?' he said, and stopped walking. Waited for Brian to do something, say something.

'Um...what do you think I could say?' Brian said, stopping and facing him, starlight and streetlights making his face more about the reflections in his glasses than about his actual expression. Neil bit his lips back in a sneer.

'Fuck, I wish I'd never met you.'

'Wh-what?' The voice scared now, and sounded threatened. Neil thought he could work with this, maybe. Perhaps the only thing that would help was fucking up the whole damned world.

'I wasn't like this before I met you. Fuckin', I had it all sorted out. I wasn't having _nightmares_ , and weird flashbacks during the day, and then you hunt me down and now this happens. And now you can't even help. It's dumb and stupid.'

Brian took a step back and then hunched in on himself. He looked down at the grass and had made himself as small as it was possible to be while standing in layers of clothing in the middle of a park.

'Okay,' he said, and Neil gritted his teeth.

'Okay?' He challenged, and then just like that, a spark on some tinder, Brian looked up, glaring behind his glasses.

'You didn't come back to Hutchinson because of me, you'd never met me, and y-you never replied to Eric's letters. You came b-back because your life was already fucked! You told me; you got a job, you wanted something different for yourself, and you got _raped_ and came back and Eric told me that you probably wouldn't even see me or care when we met, so it wasn't me that did this to you. I didn’t do all that shit to you when you were younger. Why can't you be angry at _him?_ '

Brian's voice escalated until finally he was shouting. Neil had noticed that when Brian's shouted, his voice became hard and rough, losing all of its wispy gentleness. Even Neil couldn't shout like that. He cringed and ran hands through his hair, over and over again, and then realised that his hands were still shaking. This was an embarrassing night. A terrible situation.

'Fuck,' he breathed, 'I don't know. I don't want to be.'

'He did this to you,' Brian said, persistent and Neil shook his head.

'No, you dumb-ass fuckin' idiot, I did it to _myself._ I met him, I wanted to be consumed by him. You don't get it. You don't even know what I was before I met him. I was jacking off before I was ever a Panther. And if I changed my mind later, about some of it, then too damn bad, it happened and that's all there is to it, and I did it to myself, and I did it to others. I shoved my tongue in your mouth. I sucked you off when you were a goddamned kid. I made you a part of it. What is wrong with you, that you can't... What is _wrong_ with you that you see me and don't...'

Neil trailed off, choked and confused because this wasn't what he had planned on talking about, and he didn't feel comforted, and he was saying too much and he knew it sounded stupid.

And there stood Brian, holding himself together while Neil felt like he was falling apart.

'Well go on then,' Neil said, angrily, 'tell me it's not my fuckin' fault and tell me all that other new age shit that won't change anything.'

'Maybe tomorrow, or later on,' Brian said, his voice calm and even, like nothing unusual was happening.

'Not now?'

'Bad nights are just...really bad,' Brian said, like this explained everything. Accounted for all the crazy that Neil felt bubbling away inside of him.

'This isn't helping,' he said, and cleared his throat when his voice broke at the end, pretending that was the reason he sounded so uneven.

'Nothing helps,' Brian said, and took his glasses off and moved his palm over his eyes. It happened so quickly that Neil couldn't see if there'd been any tears or not. Was Brian crying? Was it lint or a speck of dust? But Brian kept his palm in place and then pinched the bridge of his nose and then finally left his glasses in his hand at his side, and looked at Neil without them. Finally, Neil thought, he could see the worry and the resignation and the mess of other things that he didn't have a name for.

'I thought you'd know what to do,' Neil said. Brian's face twisted, and his eyes were definitely gleaming from tears now, though he didn't shed any. In the distance a dog barked, and another picked up the slack close by. They heard a car slam on its brakes in a screech, but no crash followed.  
'How long is this gonna last?' Neil said, finally, when Brian couldn't seem to find the words to make sentences.

Brian laughed then. It was long, bitter and jagged. It took away all his soft lines and made him angles and caustic acid. There, beneath all that fear, was a hardness that came from years and years of it. Years of hard nights with no one to turn to. Years of keeping it to himself. Years of nightmares and waking up alone and having no one else's house to throw rocks at in case he wanted someone to talk to, in case he wanted to experience not being alone with what he felt.

Neil felt the hollow pit inside of him open up wider, and both his hands clutched somewhere below his rib-cage, as though he could hold his guts in, even though they weren't going anywhere.

'Stop,' Neil said, disturbed. Brian closed his mouth over his laugh and then coughed.

'I'm sorry,' he murmured, 'm-maybe I was having a bad night too. I wasn't, I wasn't reading a book on cartooning. I-I meant to. It's by my bed, and I meant to. It's my mom, and she won't stop about...finding him, and I think maybe she's looking. I think, maybe she's looking even though I asked her not to. I just don't want...' Brian trailed off and looked up at the sky.

'She has good reasons,' he continued, 'I just don't want it to be so big in my life anymore. But it is. It is because of you, and mom, and also because it happened. I think I need space from it all but then I was just sitting on my bed wondering what you were doing, and even jealous that you get it easier than me.'

'Still jealous?'

'No,' Brian said, abashed. 'No.'

'Fuck, I am so tired,' Neil said with a yawn. He'd given up, nothing would fix his mood. It was unfair to expect Brian to do it. It wasn't like he could fix Brian either. Why he expected it to be any different in reverse was beyond him. 'We should go back. Maybe catch up later this week, or whatever.'

'That would be nice,' Brian said, and he even sounded like he meant it. They both turned and walked closely side by side. On the way, Brian bumped Neil in the shoulder with his own, which felt affectionate and enough of a peacemaking that he did the same back.

They walked back to Brian's house, silent and cloaked by the dark.

On the way back to his own place, he found himself wishing more than ever that someone would just drive by, pick him up, beat him to death and get it over and done with already. That's all he wanted, for it to just be over.


	10. Chapter 10

Dinner at his mom's was a weekly, or twice-weekly event. It saved on money, since they weren't expected to bring anything. Often Eric attended, and together all three of them generally had a good time. His mom and Eric were close, having formed a bond when Neil went to New York, and Neil marvelled that Eric sometimes felt as much like a brother as he did a friend. After lazy dinners and creative desserts, they often sat in front of the television, flicking through channels or watching VHS, commenting on the men they'd do. Neil noticed that his taste was similar to his mom's, and once he saw this, he couldn't unsee it. Eric's taste in men seemed to veer all over the place, though he didn't see the point in facial hair.

Neil and Eric would drive home from those dinners and continue the conversation. On those nights, Neil often felt good, like he'd done the right thing in coming back to Hutchinson – if anyone could ever truly say that – to his friends and his family, and he felt ashamed that he liked homeliness now, and simplicity. Some small part of him wanted the showy lights of New York and clients who would pay more money. That part of him remained too small to overturn the goodness of those nights.

When Eric wasn't there, it felt like old times. His mom told him freely and often that she loved him, and he responded in awkward smiles and half shrugs. He slipped into silence often, which his mom didn't find unusual, but these days he wondered. Did she not notice how he'd been as a kid? Not bad exactly, but stealing her Playboys and stealing them back again when she'd realised that he had them? Brian had talked to him about how it was important to realise your parents weren't perfect, and Neil had scoffed initially, because who thought their parents were perfect? But then, as time passed, he came to see that for all of her love, his mom also kind of didn't look for the darkness in anyone. She wanted everyone to be alright. She wanted to fix the wounded with her love. So she doled out 'I love you, baby,' to Eric and Wendy and her son, and brought out some food, or changed the subject, and for the longest time Neil had thought that was fine. Not perfect, but fine.

Now he didn't know. Brian was making him soft, he knew that much, but he liked Brian too much to stop seeing him and his gentle words worked their way into him with a determined insistence. He turned sentences over days and weeks later. He thought about everything he heard from the kid. Even Wendy didn't get his undivided attention in quite the same way. At least, not with the same stuff.

It was a Thursday night when he started having a different conversation with his mom. A new type of conversation, a way of talking they weren't used to. He'd swallowed the last bite of a peach and cornflake pie, surprisingly good, and leaned back in his chair and looked down at the red and white pattern on the tablecloth. He traced it with a finger. It was plastic and rough under his skin. Easy to wipe down in case of messes. The kind of tablecloth you'd have if there were kids in the house. He wondered if he should buy her a nicer one now that he was older and had moved out, but then figured she probably didn't want to wash a cloth one in the washing machine if it got dirty. Easier to wipe down plastic.

'Mom,' he said, 'there's a lot of things you don't know about me.'

She was in the middle of raising a forkful of pie to her mouth and put it down on her plate. It made a small _clink!_ Neil picked at the hem of the tablecloth now. He had no idea what he was doing.

'I know, honey,' she said, finally. She sighed. 'I know.'

'A lot of bad things,' he ventured.

She picked up the fork, chewed on the morsel of pie reflectively, as though she needed something to do. Neil saw her feelings clearly on her face. Years of reading Coach, years of reading clients, and he could tell what most people were feeling. He saw confusion and even fear. When she looked up at him after swallowing, there was a haunted look in the shadows under her eyes and the pull of her mouth and he thought, _what do you know?_

_What could you possibly know?_

And then it hit him. _Does she know?_ Did she know and not do anything? How could that even be possible? A crack split down the middle of him, but he didn't express it except in the way he shifted in his chair.

'I know about your...the way you used to get your money,' she says, finally. 'I didn't know at first, but there were rumours and baby, you have to know, I don't judge you at all. I'm just glad you're home now and working this other job.'

Neil's face showed no expression, but he reeled on the inside. He had never thought of his job as a 'bad thing.' Even Brian, who had called it a 'coping mechanism,' and a 'symptom' and 'understandable,' had never called it a bad thing. He supposed she'd find out eventually, but it was surprising to hear it like this. That this was the bad thing she assumed he was talking about.

How had she found out? Some client talking in passing about some young kid they'd had? A concerned and malicious mother taking her aside and saying, 'do you know what my husband did to your son?' He didn't want to know.

Suddenly he didn't want her to know about any of the rest of it either. The idea was horrifying. He didn't want to see the look on her face when she found out, he didn't want to field her reaction at all. She was still looking at him, expectant.

'I'm sorry,' he said, awkwardly. He hadn't wanted his alternate line of employment to hurt her, and he saw in the way her body was less easy that it had.

She watched him, evaluating if he meant it. Finally she shrugged in a gesture he used all the time.

'We all do things we regret,' she offered him a weak smile, and cleared the table. They returned to their regular dinner rituals after that and didn't chance across more serious subjects again.

________________________________________

That Saturday, Brian came over with microwave popcorn, blocks of chocolate, a bottle of vodka and a handful of obscure, b-grade alien-based horror films he'd managed to source. Eric and Brian seemed to have a competition where they found the most ridiculous horrors they possibly could, and they were getting quite good at it now. They even sent away for specific catalogues and special-ordered when they had to. For something that had started out as a hobby, it was becoming a serious fixation for both of them.

But Neil wasn't opposed when there was vodka involved.

They would have had the VHS night whether Neil was there or not, but sometimes he hung around watching their easy banter and talk of directors and even scriptwriters and felt like he had nothing to add to the conversation. He minded, not enough to ruin their fun, but enough that it scratched away inside of him. He said 'so long' when he left for his work shift, and felt a twinge when he thought of the fun they would have without him.

Work was uneventful for a Saturday night. There were the regular rushes and he was left with the job of closing the store, reconciling and counting out the tills, but it went easy enough and he got out on time. He wanted the longest shower it was possible to have. When he was coated in so much grease he wanted to use steel wool on his face, for all that it would graze and shred.

He walked through the door and immediately heard the sound of drunken giggling from Brian and the hiccoughing end of what had been hysterical laughter from Eric. He wasn't in the mood to deal with either of them and walked straight to the bathroom. The others stopped laughing straight away and then he heard Eric say, 'you don't want to talk to him until he's clean! I'd be grumpy if I could start an oil factory with my body as well.'

Brian was giggling at that again as Neil closed the door behind him and started stripping off his clothes. He refused to believe that the giggling was either adorable, cute or attractive. It was the opposite of manly, it wasn't his _type._

The jet of water he stepped under was so hot that he hissed and let it fall on the less sensitive parts of his body before he was willing to brave his head and neck. It felt good to wash the shift off him and he scrubbed at his hair and wondered what other jobs he could possibly get that didn't involve so much goddamned oil. Maybe another fast food place that didn't do so much frying, like a Subway chain.

Forty-five minutes later he stepped out, got dressed and ambled back into the lounge where Eric was dozing and Brian was watching the hallway for him, a serious expression on his face.

'I spoil the mood?' Neil said, only half-joking.

'No,' Brian said, eyes sparkling from the effects of vodka and clasping his knees to his body with pale hands. He got up, like he wanted to come forward, but he stood there instead while the TV offered them screams and shrieks and the stereotypical eerie whistles that often accompanied aliens on TV.

'He's out,' Neil looked at Eric, who was sleeping, with a shake of his head, 'must've had a long day.'

Brian nodded.

'He had some tests today. We were celebrating that they were over.'

Neil thought that maybe he should ask them more about how their studying was going at college. He forgot to involve himself in that side of their lives, because it made him feel stupid and pointless.

'I want,' Brian looked off to the side, 'I want to talk to you about something.'

'Here we go,' Neil said, rolling his eyes. Something serious, no doubt. Brian didn't say anything, and Neil turned around and walked back to his room, and heard the shuffle-step of Brian following him a moment later. Once there he turned on his light and Brian shut the door behind him.

Neil stood and Brian sat down awkwardly on the bed.

'I've been doing a lot of thinking, about _h-him._ I'm going to...' he trailed off and his whole body locked into a hunch. Neil bit the inside of this life and waited, slack and still radiating heat from the shower.

'Christ,' Neil said as he realised what Brian was trying to say. 'Fuckin', you're going to let your mom find him, aren't you?'

'If she...can. He might be dead,' Brian said, sounding pained and hopeful all at once. Neil looked down at the floor and felt black and red feelings coursing through him. The idea of Coach older, wrinkled, _dead._ In his mind, Coach hadn't aged a bit. _The perfect parent_ , he thought, swallowing the taste of grease out of the back of throat, even though he'd brushed his teeth thoroughly.

'If he's not dead?'

'I want to, I h-have to tell him, tell him he did the wrong thing. Or, something, I don't know. I have to do something. I don't know what I'd say.'

'Probably nothing, because you'll pass out, and bleed, and fuck knows what else. Look at you now, just thinking about it,' Neil poked the truth at him so he didn't have to look at his own and Brian rubbed hands on his upper arms like he was trying to warm himself up, and then he flinched away from his own touch and looked miserable and still instead.

'Stop it,' Brian said, and Neil shook his head even though he wasn't looking at him.

'Will that give you what you want? Seeing him? Collapsing? Showing him what he did to you?'

'It won't, it won't be like that. It won't. I hardly pass out at all these days. I have less nosebleeds.'

'You don't think,' Neil said, his voice careless and not at all reflecting what he was feeling inside, 'that you could go twenty fuckin' years without seeing him and not freak out when you do? Jesus. Tell me how well you reacted the time you saw him at that Hallowe'en house after those couple of years without seeing him. Go on.'

Brian hissed in his throat and edged up the bed, away from Neil, looking firmly in the opposite direction.

'I don't want anything to do with it,' Neil added, for good measure, because he _didn't._ At least, he told himself that, though it didn't seem very convincing even when he shouted it in his own head. It occurred to him that no one at work had any idea about this, any idea about the bullshit he went through, the fucked up, dumb shit he had to think about.

'Well, maybe I don't want you to have anything to do with it,' Brian said, belligerent and hurt all at the same time. Neil grit his teeth and walked to his window, where he pulled back the curtains and looked out to the quiet street beyond. He wanted to put his fist through the glass and stopped himself by pressing it into the wall instead.

Brian stood and Neil didn't face him, he could feel his own heart beating a gallop inside his chest and all the way up in the back of his throat. He felt the way he often felt after a nightmare, and he wanted to just claw it out of him and throw it onto the floor, where he was sure it would land a wet, bloody mess.

'I'm just telling you, because it's the polite thing to do,' Brian said, his voice flat now, and Neil waited for him to say anything else and then it became obvious that Brian was waiting for him to say something. Stubbornly, Neil remained silent.

'I'm going to bed. In the spare room. I drank too much. I can't drive home,' Brian said, and he walked out, closing the door again behind him.

Neil sat down on his bed. The space where Brian had sat was not yet warm, but he still felt the indentation. He wanted to follow Brian into the spare room and say a hundred things. _Are you fuckin' nuts? I don't want you to do that to yourself! What could you get out of it that's so different to what you have now? Why? You're just caving to your mom's pressure, who wouldn't?_ And he wanted to say more besides. It rattled around in his head and he rubbed at his eyes until he realised that besides all of that he was really damned tired.

He kicked his blankets aside, removed his shirt and burrowed facedown into the cool material, pushing his face into the pillow.

He thought after a conversation like that he'd have problems falling asleep, but he had drifted off in under five minutes, exhaustion claiming him.

________________________________________

Brighton Beach. A 'loud nightmare,' but Neil didn't know that at the time, caught in that bathroom, in that frightening moment between locking the door with that pathetic latch and the john unlocking it. How his heart had hammered. The artificial light had scoured out all hope of release and left him only with animal desperation and the sour, unrelenting taste of regret.

In his dream, everything was amplified, and the memory ran into heightened textural awareness. Everything was worse. And he was shouting and even screaming in a way that he couldn't remember doing at the time, and he was determined that this time, if he was loud enough, if he was just loud enough, one of the other fucks in the neighbouring apartments would call someone, do _something_ , because he was going to die, god, he was going to die, he was going to-

He woke up dry retching, and hunched over himself in the blankets. His hands ached from fisting his pillow and he unclenched them with a pained groan. He was shaking. He was cold. Too cold. A sound came out of his open mouth and it sounded like 'fu-uh-' but could have been anything.

And then he sensed the presence in the room and turned too fast. It made him dizzy, orienting to his new surroundings, his brain hanging onto what he'd left behind in the dreamscape.

'What?' he managed, an honest question, nothing derisive or sarcastic in it.

Brian was standing there, close to the bed, knees touching the mattress. He looked shocked. Struck dumb. His eyes were too wide and his mouth was open. Neil wanted to ask him if he was okay but his body reminded him with a jagged determined mind of its own that the nightmare was not yet gone and he turned back to the pillow and pushed his forehead into it and wondered how much sleep he'd gotten, how loud he'd been, when the stupid fucking things would stop.

'E-Eric gave me these,' Brian said, holding open his hand. Two, unused yellow earplugs.

Neil winced. The nightmare had gone on long enough to wake both of them. Long enough for Eric to get a second pair of earplugs and give them to Brian. Long enough that Brian had not used them, and decided to stand there instead, until he woke up.

'Fuck off,' he said into the pillow, eloquent as ever.

'That summer, you said,' Brian whispered, and Neil shook his head.

'What summer?'

'You said it happened to you that summer, all of that summer.'

Neil pushed himself shakily into a sitting position, kneeling on sore legs, feeling stripped by the artificial lights which reminded him, even now, of that bathroom, Christ, he was going to be sick, he’d be thinking about it all night now. Christ. The hand he passed through his hair was shaking so hard that it felt like a seizure instead.

'It wasn't about that,' Neil managed, and then thought, is that me? Is that my voice? Fuck. 'Not that summer.'

'Uh,' Brian said, that sound he made when he was thinking or confused or scared. That conversational place-marker that sounded stupid.

Neil made to get up, he was not sure why, but he lurched forward. He hated, _hated_ , that Brian had seen him like this. It was the last thing he wanted him to see. He had one leg swung over the side of the bed when Brian mobilised into action. He stepped forward and pushed him back on the shoulders.

'I think you should lie down,' Brian said, and Neil felt kitten-weak and upset and resisted at first and then went because he didn't know how he'd be able to stand anyway.

To his surprise, Brian kept gently pushing him until he was lying down alongside Neil, in the bed.

'Do you want some water?' Brian said, and Neil shook his head, and then shook it again, and then a third time. He didn't know what he wanted. He didn't think he could swallow water. He didn't feel capable of most of the basic motor functions.

'Turn out the light,' he managed, and Brian's eyes widened, and then he got out of the bed briefly and turned off the overhead bulb. The room was plunged into night-lit darkness and he sighed in relief. It was a broken, long sound and he hated himself for all of it, and that Brian was here, fucking Brian, seeing all of it.

But when Brian crawled into bed again and lay alongside him, glasses clinking softly on the bedside table, Neil realised that he didn't want him to leave. He leaned back into him, not enough to touch, but enough to feel the warmth of the other boy radiating into him.

'The last time,' Brian said, 'your nightmare, it was about the last time, before you came back.'

'Fuck,' Neil said, and he pushed his face into the pillow until his other shoulder came around and he was nearly facedown. He was still shaking, and he was aware of a dull pain in his head, in his body, lancing up his spine. The sensory portion of the memory had lingered and it stamped him with despair.

Later, he would have sworn that he didn't flinch when Brian put a firm arm around him. He was surprised to feel him inch closer, until his forehead was touching the back of Neil's shoulder.

'Eric said the nightmares were bad,' Brian said, full of words in the space of Neil's silence. 'But seeing it is worse. So, y'know, uh, I couldn't just leave you like that. If you need me to go away...'

Neil shook his head against the pillow and was rewarded with a warm arm squeeze and Brian pressing himself closer and pulling the blankets up around them. Neil, for some reason, suddenly found himself wanting to cry, and he shuddered against the weight of _refusing._

'I'd just as soon stay anyway,' Brian said, his voice hushed in the darkness.

'I didn't want to die,' Neil said, turning his head just enough that Brian could understand him.

'You didn't die,' Brian said, confused. 'You're here.'

'No. Idiot. I didn't know, before that night, that I didn't want to die. Before then I took all kinds of dumb fuckin' risks. You don't even...you don't know. I didn't know until then that I wanted to not fuckin' die, and then it was like it was too late. Like I realised too late. And he would've, I just don't know why he didn't...' Neil trailed off, surprised to find himself talking so much, full of words. 'Me not dying had nothing to do with me not wanting to die. I had nothing to do with it.'

'I would never have properly found out what happened to me,' Brian said.

'Mom would've cried buckets,' Neil said, feeling his body begin to settle into the warmth of Brian's embrace. It felt like a food that he didn't know he craved until he had it. And now that Brian was there he didn't want him to leave. He figured that the only reason Brian wasn't freaking out lying next to someone was because he was the one calling all the shots, and because it was one hundred per cent completely non-sexual.

'I'm glad you didn't die,' Brian said and Neil shook his head because it seemed wrong, that that should be true.

Brian didn't push, but the hand that was curled around Neil's upper arm came up and trailed through his hair instead. It was light but sure, and Neil stared out into the darkness hoping Brian wouldn't stop, and he didn't.

'S'nice,' he managed a couple of minutes later, and Brian murmured agreement, nothing more than a pleased syllable.

Neil couldn't think of anything else to say, so instead he pushed his body back into Brian's and aligned himself more neatly, and then threw his arm across what remained of the bed. Brian was warm and solid behind him, the fleece of his pyjamas pressing into his naked back, and bare feet pressing against his own bare feet.

They lay awake in silence for a while longer. Neil thought Brian would fall asleep first, but to his surprise, his eyelids got heavy as Brian kept moving his fingers around his scalp, and his shaking subsided into a bone deep tiredness.

________________________________________

He surfaced from sleep entwined in warmth, though he felt the chill of morning on the bare areas of his skin. During the night, he and Brian had turned and faced each other, somehow wrapped themselves around each other, so that arms tangled, and their calves were interlocked. He could feel Brian's sleep-filled exhales pushing against his cheek, for Neil had his head in the pillows and Brian was half on top of it, squashing his cheekbone with the roughness of stubble. That was something of a novelty, since it seemed like Brian would have to wait a few days to grow any sort of facial hair.  
He felt the remnants of the nightmare inside of him, but he could push it down and far away. It felt more of a conscious choice, that morning, to sleepily push himself against Brian more and close his eyes, smelling the faint hint of deodorant and shampoo, expensive conditioner and morning breath.

And of course, he was hard. He smiled to himself, at that. It was partly morning wood, but it was a great deal Brian's influence too, and waking up so close to someone else. He thought it was actually just nice to lay there without doing something about it.

Brian mumbled something that didn't sound like any language he knew, and then pushed himself into Neil, and at that moment, Neil realised that Brian was hard too.

'Good morning,' Neil mumbled, more to the boner he felt against him than anything else. He pushed back, lazily, enjoying the mild not-enough friction.

'Uh, g-good morning yourself,' Brian said, voice lower than usual and already ragged. Neil expected that this would be the moment he pulled away, didn't want to continue, but instead Brian hesitated, and then pushed against him once more.

'This okay?' he asked Neil, who nodded as much as he could with Brian's face turning into his and keeping it pressed against the pillow.

Neil made a noise of agreement and slowly they found a rhythm. Brian was more aggressive than Neil, disarmed by sleep and want. And Neil rode out the sensations, wondering at the fact that he could have such a bad nightmare followed by a morning of _this._ And Brian, against him, breathing already uneven and heavy, biting down sounds, as though he didn't want Eric to know what was happening.

'Eric sleeps in,' Neil said, 'he's got those earplugs in. He's not gonna hear a damn thing. You can be as noisy as you like.'

Brian gusted a laugh against his face and then grasped Neil's wrist. Neil's eyebrows shot up when he felt his hand being tugged down into the cramped space between them. He grinned when Brian pulled his wrist into his own pyjamas, down into the heat, where his own hungry fingers curled against a hard length.

'Like this?' Neil said, starting up a slow, compelling rhythm that made Brian's voice stop and his breathing hitch. He groaned in the tones of someone who hadn't yet found his way to his normal speaking voice. It was deeper, broken, and he pushed into Neil's hand. His own free arm started roving, trailing up Neil's back and then pushing into his hair.

'You sure you okay?' Brian managed, in between the moments when he was pushing back and forth himself.

'Yeah.'

They continued like that for a little while, and then Neil decided he wanted to try something with Brian that would make them both happy, ideally. He removed his hand, made a soothing sound when Brian protested. He reached over them both to pull lube out of his drawer. And then it was an awkward matter of pulling pyjama pants half off and pressing skin and against skin, which took time but – Neil thought – was worth it. Brian was paleness and blonde chest hair, and Neil was lean, olive and wiry. At the sensation of Neil pressing against him, length to length, Brian's eyes went wide and his hands flailed until they settled on his ribs.

'Easy,' Neil said, 'this okay?'

'Y-yeah,' Brian said, though he sounded uncertain.

'I have an idea.'

Neil shifted them slowly until Brian was on top, Brian's legs between his legs, dicks not quite angled right, so that Brian could call the shots. He pulled the blankets over them to hide the morning chill, and then wished – in that moment – that he could kiss Brian thoroughly but that was against the rules. A constant reminder of the damage that stood between them.

He waited and expected Brian to stop, surprised at how much he wouldn't mind if that happened. But Brian braced himself on his forearms and shifted up, putting lube on his hand with uncharacteristic boldness and slipping it down between them. Neil experienced the coldness of it as a shock, the courage of Brian as a surprise. He realised that he didn’t know if he was actually ready something that Brian seemed fine to be pushing ahead with. 

'How is this okay?' Neil asked, as Brian shifted again and then brought their crotches together. Brian's head dropped at the sensation, and Neil kept thinking; _this is happening, how is this happening?_

'Dunno,' Brian managed, 's'been a good morning so far.'

Neil opened his mouth to say something, and Brian drove forward, bringing the both of them together in a way that forced exhales from the both of them. And then he picked up the gist of it quickly, moving with strength and pushing them both together. Neil watched as Brian's eyes opened and then squeezed shut from the sensations, the way his mouth fell open slightly.

'It's just falling,' Brian gasped, to no one in particular, 'that's all it is. Just falling.'

'And you'll fall on top of me anyway,' Neil managed, breathless and hard and feeling movement and texture and heat and skin, wanting this more than anything. He pushed the nightmare further and further away, and pretended that it didn't still lurk there in the background. He was more than his nightmares, surely.

'And you'll catch me,' Brian said, a statement more than anything. Neil laughed, drew his knees up and braced Brian's hips and then thrust upwards. Brian dropped his head into Neil's shoulder and groaned, fingers curling into the sheets on either side of Neil's head. And Neil thought; _this is hot, fuck, this is hot._

Neil expected Brian to shy away before they went too far, before they came, but instead Brian seemed utterly driven towards that end point, and they both moved fast and rhythmic against each other until Neil was grabbing at Brian's shoulders and Brian was unable to lift his head anymore and his arms were shaking.

There was only one hesitation that Neil sensed. A moment when Brian's entire body locked up, where he seemed to freeze, and Neil could tell the difference between frozen-I'm-going-to-come, and frozen-fuck-I-can't-do-this. He was just about to open his mouth and say 'we can stop' and 'it's okay,' but Brian made the decision without his input and it was all over quickly after that.

Neil came first, swallowing words down and hissing through clenched teeth instead. Brian came with a bout of violent shaking, still unused to the intensity of sensation. Instead of collapsing on top of him, he pushed himself sideways and lay facing Neil, one arm thrown against the come on Neil's chest, and his leg hooking over both of Neil's like this was something they did all the time. Like they were together. Like their relationship had never been difficult and neither one of them was plagued with nightmares or horrible truths.

'I liked that,' Brian admitted, on an embarrassed laugh; as though he had anything to be embarrassed about after they'd both come all over each other.

'Who wouldn't?' Neil said, but he felt that strange blankness again, creeping closer. He didn't want to freak Brian out with it, but it didn't seem to be something he could control or stop either.

'Mm. You okay?' Brian asked again, and Neil turned sideways, using his sheets to rub at himself briefly, making a face when he realised he'd have to do some washing.

'It's weird,' Neil admitted and Brian's arm, where it touched him, tensed.

'What is?'

Neil thought about it. He turned the question over in his mind, listening to Brian's breathing calm down and feeling the hammering of his heart. What was weird about it? And then he realised with a start what it actually was.

'Y'know,' he said, 'that this is probably only the second time I've ever blown my load with someone, without there being money involved?'

'Wh-what?' Brian said in disbelief. 'What about boyfriends?'

'What boyfriends? What was the point in having boyfriends when I could fuckin' get laid or blown or whatever, and get _paid_ for it? It's weird to do it like this and know you're not gonna pay me, and I'm not gonna pay you. Like we're, I dunno, boring people.'

'You're not boring,' Brian asserted and then shook his head. 'I guess for you it all started with the five dollar game,' he added, and Neil frowned and then tried to pull away a little bit. Brian bringing that up now, like it was easy, and it was never that easy. But Brian followed the motion and pressed even closer, and Neil realised after a beat that he wanted the contact.

'I guess I started early,' Neil said, after a while.

'Is it bad? Is it bad doing it, without getting paid?'

'Nah, it's just…' Neil sighed, snuggled deeper into the blankets and shaking his head at himself. 'How am I the one weirder about this than you are?'

'You really don't know?' Brian said, like it was obvious.

Neil grimaced and then yawned. It turned out he was sleepy after all. To his surprise, he fell asleep again, and Brian didn't seem that desperate for an answer to his question because he followed soon after; both of them retangling their limbs, and drifting back into soft warmth.


	11. Chapter 11

Wendy came back for a week, during the first half of her vacation. The first thing she said when she stepped off the bus was: 

‘I don’t know why I’m wasting a week in this shit-kicking town for you lowlifes.’ 

Neil shot a toothy grin her way and then found himself with a faceful of Wendy as she dropped her bag and lunged at him happily. Wendy was travelling light, and Eric picked up her bag easily. She seemed shocked to see Eric there, which was ridiculous, since she knew that they were living together. Sometimes Neil wondered if she still pictured him as the total loner from four or five years ago. He was a supervisor in a chain of fast-food stores now, he had learned to appreciate Eric’s wry and witty company after days working with people whose IQs were sometimes on par with their shoe size. 

They drove back to their place surrounded by a cascade of stories. Work, exes, crushes, new music, ‘oh, did you hears?’ Neil basked in the presence of words and enjoyed not having to come up with anything more than ‘yeahs’ or ‘whatevers’ in response. It was just like the old days except that he’d changed, and she’d changed, and it felt like a pattern they’d stepped into was an uncomfortable suit. It was as awkward and charming as a child playing dress-up. 

She stepped into their home and proclaimed it a ‘neat find.’ Neil still felt little ownership over the house in general. It was a home full of Eric’s signature touches; from distinctive movie and vinyl posters, all the way down to the little collectible Smurfs that he’d lined up exactly so on the top of their counter. The only space that was truly Neil’s, was his own room. 

Neil took Wendy out to the baseball pitch on his night off. It was deserted, late, and he still remembered how to break in. They meandered in the dark, their footsteps still sure even though so much time had passed. Wendy went from all words to a gentle silence, and Neil felt enfolded in it. He felt as though she hadn’t left, and they had always done this, him captured in the netting of her love. 

‘I dunno,’ Wendy sighed suddenly, ‘I don’t miss it here. But I miss you. You idiot,’ she added, for good measure. 

‘I’m not comin’ back,’ he said. It was a truth he’d known for some time, but hadn’t really wanted to admit to himself. After all, he’d wanted big cities and big city clients and big city money. Instead, nightmares ran him ragged most evenings, and New York left a sour, stale taste in his mouth. A metallic tang, reminiscent of the blood he ended up swallowing when that douche beat his face with that stupid shampoo bottle. 

Wendy looked sidelong at him. 

‘You think I don’t know that?’ 

Their feet scuffed at soil and grass, washed with a patina of sweat, dust and ball grease. Neil’s memories of this place mostly featured blow jobs of some kind, and then distant memories of the Coach saying he’d done a good job. He was reminded of the effervescent excitement that started in his gut when he realised that he’d be going home with him again. It was a feeling he’d once loved, being owned or claimed by someone, being totally theirs. 

Neil swallowed around queasiness and looked up at the sky instead. He tried to pretend he was somewhere else. His fondest memories were polluted. 

‘You still seeing Brian?’ 

‘Not _seeing_ him,’ Neil amended, followed by, ‘yeah, I guess.’ 

‘You fucked him?’ 

Neil’s mouth thinned into a line. He scratched at his elbow. Were they fucking? Is that what it was? Handjobs and frottage and that was it, and sometimes Neil thought about wanting more, but mostly he didn’t even know if he wanted what he already had. Brian was an unexpected force of nature, shining torchlight into the places in his brain he’d rather not see, making him feel things he’d rather not feel. It wasn’t a relationship, but it was more than a friendship. He didn’t have a word for it. He resented that Wendy wanted him to categorise it, when Eric did no such thing. 

And then he remembered that this was Wendy, and she had given him an approval of sorts when he’d talked to her about Brian in the first place. Wendy who told him it wasn’t any more fucked up than anything else he’d ever done, and a lot less fucked up than some of the other things they’d done. 

‘Other stuff,’ Neil admitted. Significant enough that he would have charged for it some months ago. 

‘And?’ 

‘I dunno. It’s weird. I never thought I’d... with someone like him.’ 

‘Ha,’ Wendy exhaled, ‘you’re telling me!’ 

‘He’s not just the way he looks,’ Neil said, wondering why he felt the need to defend the kid, when he was perfectly capable of defending himself. 

‘He’s...interesting. Sort of.’

‘Neil, you don’t have to explain to me. I can see there’s changes in you. I don’t know if it’s him, or Eric, or some kind of epiphany or revelation, but you’re working a steady job, you’ve moved out of home. You’re not hangin’ around toilets for your money.’ 

‘It was bars in the end,’ Neil said. And a street, that one time. That last time. He ran a hand through his hair. He wanted to tell Wendy about it – he never had, she had been so happy about him taking the job in the sandwich bar. Even back then, he couldn’t tell her. Wendy, who knew practically everything about him. 

And yet that wasn’t entirely true. Wendy didn’t know about the nightmares, about Brighton Beach (though she may have guessed), about the way Brian’s hair was like rabbit fur and how he made noises that he hated coming out of burly men when they were aroused, but liked when it was him. 

They ended up talking about Wendy’s life instead. And this worked for him, because he realised he wasn’t ready to tell her everything that he wanted to say. He was used to showing her what was happening to him, and now he’d have to find the words because she hadn’t been here, and he hadn’t been able to show her, and he didn’t know how to make any of it come forth as sentences. 

*

The first night, Eric forgot to give Wendy any earplugs. He was tired and drunk and it didn’t occur to him. In fact, they were all tired and drunk. They all went to bed earplug free. 

Neil woke up from a loud nightmare, more terror and struggling than usual, and there was danger nearby and he struck out at it hard. 

‘Jesus!’ The voice was shrill, a woman’s, and he turned to see Wendy holding her hands up in surrender, a wild, pale look of horror on her face. ‘You’re mental, I was just trying to get you to wake up!’ 

‘Fuck,’ he rasped, ‘earplugs. Eric has earplugs.’ And then the hangover started to kick in and he took a deep breath and willed his stomach to settle down. His heart was still racing, his palms were sweaty, his feet felt like they were about to cramp and he stretched out the muscles without really thinking about it. He had a lot of post-nightmare habits that he put into place without thinking about any of them, these days. 

‘You mean, you’re gonna have more?’ she said, forehead wrinkling, mouth turning into a definite frown. 

‘Yeah, usually. Shit, I’m sorry, I should’ve,’ and he trailed off, scrubbing at his face, trying to shake the rest of the nightmare. 

She stayed quiet, instead of battering at him with more questions, and then finally she sat down at the foot of his bed and placed a familiar hand on his shin. He tried to slow his breathing down, forcing his exhales to slow, pausing on the top of the inhale. It was hard work, and she gave him a space to settle that he was grateful for. 

‘Fuck me, McCormick, I don’t want to feel sorry for you, since I know you won’t like that. But I didn’t know it was like this. And every night, I’m guessing?’

‘Yep,’ he sighed. 

‘Since you got back from New York?’ 

Neil swallowed, reached out to his bedside cabinet and drank half a glass of stale water. 

‘Not straight away.’ 

‘After Brian?’ 

‘Maybe.’

They sat in silence for so long that Neil rested against his headboard and his eyes started to droop. Wendy sat pensively, face lost in thought. 

‘Is there...anything I can do?’ she said, tentative. ‘You want me to stay another week?’ 

Or a lifetime, he thought. 

‘You can’t fix me,’ he said, with a wry smile, ‘it’s just. It gets to me.’ It felt shameful to admit, but this was Wendy, who knew things about him that he would never, ever tell anyone else about. Things that – now – if he thought about them too long, made him feel like a monster.

‘No shit,’ she said, a world of understanding in those two words. 

‘I’m hungover,’ he added. 

‘Me too. We’re a pair.’ Her laughter was raw and strained. ‘I’m gonna need to get some sleep. Where does Eric keep the earplugs?’ 

‘In the clay turtle, by the Smurfs. He has a bunch.’ 

Wendy got up and stretched, and then looked down at him like she could figure him out. And then finally she shook her head, leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. She realised he was sweaty then, and brushed her cool palm down his cheek. It felt like a loving thing to do, in that moment he wanted to ask her to stay with him, to just sleep next to him, but he was poor company when the nightmares were bad and so he just watched her to see what she would do. 

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, finally, ‘this world is full of so much shit. None of us should have so much of it stick to us.’ 

‘You are,’ he said, as he turned onto his side to see how much sleep he could snatch before the next round of nightmares, ‘kind of wise.’

‘Fuck that,’ she laughed at him, and closed the door gently behind her. He felt lonely, and it was stupid to feel lonely. But he did it anyway. And then, after a while, he wondered if Brian was also having nightmares tonight, and when he’d see him again, and whether Brian would have insisted on staying, would have offered him something even at the risk of interrupting his own sleep. It occurred to him from a distant place as he drifted off, that Brian was probably a better friend than he gave him credit. 

*

Later in the week, the Freddie Mercury tribute to raise money for AIDS was televised, and they decided to make an event of it. Eric thought it was a big deal, Freddie Mercury had been one of his heroes and – as someone who felt deeply – had gone into a strange kind of mourning where he compulsively played _Queen_ whenever he was home. Brian brought chocolate and Wendy painted her fingernails the colour of a rainbow with six colours, ‘I tell you, that rainbow flag is taking off in West Hollywood,’ and Neil didn’t really give a shit except he was vaguely worried about how Brian would go with joining their strange little unit. 

Brian was cordial and kind to Wendy, and she was taken aback by his formal sweetness. Neil thought, at first, she might be tempted to mock him as she mocked Neil and Eric, but instead she shifted into a different gear where she was earnest. She was still forthright, but earnest and less sarcastic with him. 

Eric cried a lot, and then Wendy got weepy, and Neil expected that Brian would go any second. Instead, he found himself pleasantly surprised when Brian actually looked over at him and raised his eyebrows as if to say, ‘can you believe all this crying?’ Neil grinned at him and wondered how the seating arrangement had ended up with him sitting in the recliner on his own, and Brian sandwiched between Wendy and Eric. 

But then Brian did get teary. He did his best to hide it, unlike Eric who was openly blowing his nose. But Neil noticed and just shook his head. He just didn’t get affected by things in the same way. Sometimes he felt like he watched things from across a wide, empty plain, and this was one of those times. 

He started thinking, instead, about how he had been so sure he was going to die from AIDS, but he didn’t have it, and he felt like he’d cheated something. Like some shepherd of Death was going to come any day now and take his health and his body and send him off to whatever dark place he came from. He knew it was paranoid, that he should be grateful, but he watched the tribute and instead felt like Freddie Mercury was the one who should still be alive, and he was the one who should be dead. It didn’t make him want to cry, it made him feel empty.

*

After the tribute, Wendy rushed off with Eric to go through his make-up collection. He heard the clattering of little vials of eye-shadow and her screeches of delight, and Eric explaining everything in a rush of excitement. And when she took her own make-up out of her bag, they started chattering happily together, talking about brands he’d never heard of, techniques, textures, methods, applications. 

Brian stayed on the couch, looking suddenly awkward, and Neil felt melancholy. 

‘She seems cool,’ Brian said, finally, his voice quiet. Neil looked over, nodded, and then realised that Brian never seemed comfortable or quite like himself in a group setting. He spoke when spoken to, but otherwise he had been the quietest one in the room, which was saying something, because Neil had been monosyllabic for most of the evening. 

‘Yeah,’ Neil said. 

‘She knows, doesn’t she?’ Brian said. ‘She knows a lot about you. Uh, about the past.’ 

‘Yep.’ 

‘About me?’ 

Neil grunted in assent, and Brian looked down at his own hands. His eyes had narrowed, an expression that could mean anything from frustration, to confusion, to thoughtfulness, to tiredness. Neil couldn’t get a read on him at all.

He wanted to ask whether Brian’s mother was still looking for Coach. He wanted to ask how Brian had been sleeping, since they hadn’t been able to catch up for a while. He never used to care about shit like that, except that with Brian, he couldn’t help himself. The kid was a bad habit. 

*

Later, Wendy simply said; ‘come outside with me, keep me company while I smoke,’ and Brian blinked in confusion at Neil and then followed obediently. Neil stayed seated for all of thirty seconds, before he snuck into his own dark bedroom and crouched by the crack in the window. In the background, he could hear Eric still poring through Wendy’s bag of make-up, setting everything out in the bathroom. They were probably going to trade, later.

Wendy was standing nearby, having already lit up her cigarette. He couldn’t see her properly through the shrub, but he could make out the side of Brian’s body. The arm he could see hung by his side, hand fisted in the pocket of his jeans. Neil could tell Brian felt uncomfortable. 

‘I started smoking outside in New York. Couldn’t have it stink up the apartment. And now I like it. I can see the stars and stuff.’ 

‘Stars are...nice,’ Brian said, and Neil cringed on his behalf. Ever the conversationalist.

‘Uh huh. Well. You seem pretty nice too. So, a friendly warning then, or some shit. Be careful about Neil. He can be charming and shit, but he can turn on you too. There’s wild dogs in the world that don’t want to be saved, even if they look lost and lonesome. And Neil’s one of them.’ 

She took a long drag on her cigarette, sighed it out, waited for Brian to respond. 

Neil was squinting into the darkness. Wild dogs? Charming? What was she talking about? And what was she doing, scaring off Brian like that? His thigh muscles were starting to ache in the crouch and he reached out and braced his weight with his forearms. He was looking down at the carpet, trying to work out how he felt about Wendy doing this. Was she trying to say that Neil was a danger to Brian? He almost laughed. They were almost on a par with how much they’d wrecked each other. Brian could do just as much damage with his insightful mind and his unwillingness to let anything go. Ever. 

‘Uh,’ Brian said, and Neil pressed his ear closer to the crack of the window to catch his quiet voice. ‘Uh, well, I don’t mean to be rude but, I’ve never seen a single sign that Neil could be charming. He’s not someone I’d call charming.’ He paused. Neil expected Wendy to jump in, but she waited. And Neil resisted the urge to shout that he could too be charming if he wanted to be, he just hadn’t been interested in charm for a while. People should have to pay for that shit. 

‘And Neil doesn’t want to be rescued or saved. I know that. I’m not interested in that. I’d have to be,’ he paused, laughed nervously, ‘pretty stupid to want to rescue anyone. I can’t even...you know, rescue myself.’ 

Neil cringed. His fingers tensed against the wall. It occurred to him that he probably didn’t have a right to overhear this conversation. But that thought was dismissed quickly. He wanted to know what they were going to say. He was no angel.

‘I know there’s a lot of dark there,’ Brian said, even softer now, so Neil couldn’t be sure of what he heard and guessed some of the words, ‘and I know what I must look like to you. Like someone who can’t, um, deal with it. But I’m doing okay. I’m holding my own. He’s not the only one with a lot of dark. I guess mine just looks different.’

There was another long pause, and finally Wendy stubbed her cigarette out on the ground and simply said: 

‘Hmmm.’ She clearly wasn’t sure what to make of Brian’s response. At this point, Neil realised that they’d probably come in soon, and he decided he’d better go back into the lounge and pretend that nothing had happened. As quietly as possible he snuck back in, sat down and picked up a TV Guide and pretended it was a mesmerising piece of documentation. 

They both walked in less than a minute later. Both pairs of eyes sought him out. Neil looked up briefly to acknowledge them, and then looked back down at an article that couldn’t be less interesting if it tried. Wendy walked back into the bathroom and closed the door so she could gossip with Eric. Brian sat down on the sofa, closer to Neil than before, now that he wasn’t sandwiched between two people. 

‘Was that as weird as it looked?’ Neil said. 

Brian shrugged and curled his legs up underneath him, leaned against the side of the sofa. 

‘I don’t like big group things,’ he said, finally.

‘This isn’t a big group thing. This is four people.’ 

‘I don’t like groups of more than about three,’ he admitted. ‘I never liked it when it was Mom, Dad, me and my sister. It was better when he left and it was just the three of us. I think three is my limit.’ 

‘You don’t like Wendy?’ Neil asked, feeling mixed up about it. On the one hand, he thought it was understandable, given that Wendy had essentially indicated that she thought Brian was maybe too soft to handle whatever he had with Neil. On the other hand, Wendy was _Wendy._ Brian had to understand that beneath that hard exterior, she was like Neil, a damaged dreamer. 

‘A-actually I felt like I got to know her a bit more outside like that. She reminds me of you.’

‘In a good way?’ 

‘I don’t know. Are you fishing for a compliment?’ Brian said, raising his eyebrows, half-smiling. Neil ducked his head and put down the TV Guide. Brian laughed under his breath at that, and it wasn’t cocky, or mocking, but it was amused, and Neil swallowed and wished he could drag him into his room and pin him down and shove his tongue in his mouth except that was still out of bounds, and might be forever, because there were some things you didn’t come back from, and they still had this giant, awful reality between them. 

He sighed and interlaced his fingers, looked out into the shadows in the corner of the room, the melancholy from earlier returned with some force. 

‘I can relate,’ Brian muttered, and Neil glanced at him. 

He hadn’t had an opportunity to check how Brian was going when he came over. He wasn’t in the habit of asking anyway, but usually when it was just the two of them, or even when Eric was there, he was better able to read where Brian was at. And he could see, now, that Brian was in some miserable place just as he was, and it made his chest twinge, but it made him feel less alone. He wanted to drag Brian out to a park and talk about their respective weeks. He wanted to sit down next to him and share body heat, talk about nothing. 

They shared eye contact and then both ended up looking in opposite directions. It didn’t feel hostile, or awkward, and they stayed like that until Eric and Wendy came bouncing back into the room, chattering like parrots, their bright voices unable to force a wedge in the connection forged between Neil and Brian. 

*

Wendy insisted on being given ‘the tour’ of his workplace, and she complained at the smell out back by the bins while she lit up her cigarette. 

‘They fucking listen to you, even when you’re not on the clock!’ 

‘They should,’ he said, with a smile. 

‘It’s so weird. I’m not used to...I mean some of them even seemed to like you, McCormick. And for once not because of your body or what you can do for them.’ She waggled her eyebrows at him salaciously and he shrugged. 

‘It’s weird,’ he admitted, ‘but the boss is alright. I dunno if I’m going to stay here though.’ 

‘The smell?’ 

‘Nailed it.’ 

Bobby, one of the workers who’d just finished his shift, waved as he left and Wendy watched him go, and then shook her head in disbelief. Neil – instead of feeling offended – felt a measure of pride. Surprising Wendy in a good way was always something that made him feel warm inside. 

‘Hey,’ Wendy said suddenly. 

‘Mm?’ 

‘I have...other options, so it’s okay if you have to say no, or whatever. But I’m thinking about maybe going back to school, furthering my education or some shit, and I’m going to hit up the family for a loan, but I was wondering if you could lend me something, so I could make sure I was covered? Rent in New York is...unforgiving.’ 

‘Yeah, sure,’ Neil said, thinking about his bank account and how much he had saved, and how he would do anything for her, ‘how much do you need?’ 

‘Seriously?’ 

‘Yeah, sure,’ he repeated, firmly, on a laugh. 

‘About three hundred?’ 

‘Is that all? Are you sure?’ 

Wendy’s mouth dropped open a little bit and then impulsively she stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around him. Neil lifted an arm and enfolded it around her slight frame, he could feel her shoulder blades, and her hair brushed sticky with product over his forearm. 

‘It’s not for drugs, is it?’ Neil said, wanting to make sure he wasn’t going to be financing a drug habit. Those things spiralled out of control fast.

‘That shit will rot your brain. And your teeth. In fact, one of the workers we had, oh my god, remind me to tell you about her teeth! And her sinus problems? Jesus. I mean, I was never really into that shit, tobacco and pot is probably about as far as I’ll ever take it.’ 

‘What do you want to learn?’ 

‘I dunno. I was thinking maybe, I like a good argument, and I used to be really good at writing and researching, and debate, so I was thinking maybe...law one day.’ 

‘Law?’ Neil said, shocked. 

‘I crashed over a friend’s house and she was doing pre-law, and had some of the books and I looked through them and I reckon, I reckon it’s possible.’ She sounded wistful, and Neil tightened his arm around her automatically. She smelled like oranges and limes and the chemicals of shampoo and conditioner and product. It was a smell he wanted to package and keep somewhere nearby. 

‘You’re smart. You can do it.’ 

‘And three hundred’s okay?’ 

‘Yep. Whenever you want it.’ 

She stepped back and looked at him in the eyes. It was an assessing, thoughtful expression, and she followed it with her wry smile, a quirk of her eyebrows. 

‘You’re growin’ up.’ 

‘You too.’

‘Yeah, but, New York kind of lends itself to that growth and development crap. You’re actually finding away to do it in this podunk town, who would’ve thought?’ 

Neil returned the smile and then bumped his shoulder into hers. 

‘Come on, let’s get you some cash.’

*

The last night that Wendy stayed over, she asked if she could sleep next to Neil in his double bed. He wasn’t sure it was a good idea, because the nightmares could make him violent, and when he told her as much she asked instead if she could just lie down next to him for a while. They found themselves facing each other after a chicken roast made by Eric which was so good that Neil thought he just might want to live with the kid forever. 

‘Neil,’ Wendy said sleepily, ‘what happened on that night? That last night?’

Neil opened his eyes and looked at her, and she was watching him, eyes glowing in the lamplight. 

‘Wendy...’ he said, and it was a warning, because this topic was serious, because he avoided talking about it. He didn’t even really talk about it with Brian. Brian had simply figured most of it out, and then sometimes they talked about it in their own shorthand. 

‘You picked up, didn’t you?’ 

Neil rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Wendy propped herself up onto her elbow so she could see his expression. He wished she couldn’t, even though he could tell that he looked blank more than anything else. He wondered how he would ever find the words to explain to her what happened. He knew he owed her that much. He’d left so abruptly, and even though she had claimed she understood, that still didn’t mean he hadn’t hurt her by disappearing. They were meant to be room-mates forever, live together in the way he and Eric had made their home now. 

‘I guess,’ he said. ‘Don’t say ‘I told you so,’ he added. 

Wendy’s lips flattened into a line. 

‘I don’t understand why,’ she said, finally. 

‘Does it matter?’ 

‘You know I’m always interested in understanding you more, psychopath,’ she said, on a genuine smile. 

‘I don’t understand why,’ he said, ‘I mean, work was shit, but it wasn’t like, I dunno, it wasn’t like it was that shit.’ 

‘Was it self-destructive?’ 

Neil winced. 

‘I thought it might be the last time I ever saw you alive,’ she continued, ‘I thought that you’d come back here and just...I dunno. I thought about it a lot. I kept expecting your mom to call and say something had happened. Suicide, like an overdose. And then you got in touch and seemed better, I dunno, different I guess. But I thought, I mean, I felt like – in a way – it’d already happened. Like you were gone.’ 

Neil exhaled slowly. Wendy reached out and grabbed one of his hands. Her fingers were cold, and he palmed them in the warmth of his life and heart lines.

‘I’m too lazy to kill myself,’ he said finally, ‘I always would’ve found someone else to do it for me.’ 

‘You don’t like being culpable,’ she said, with a knowing but affectionate smile. 

‘But when I came back I met Brian and I guess things took a different path.’ 

‘Do you still think about it? Doing shit like that?’ 

‘I know it’s fucked up,’ he said, as an affirmative.

‘But you haven’t tricked again since?’ 

‘Nope.’ 

Wendy snuggled closer, lowered herself properly onto the sheets and pressed her forehead against his shoulder. He didn’t want her to go. But he knew that she would hate this small town, and all small towns probably until the day she died. She was a big city girl. New York was giving her the stories and friends and opportunities that she’d always wanted. He imagined her as a lawyer and could actually see it. 

‘Did you get tested?’ Wendy said, ‘after that night?’ 

Neil cleared his throat. 

‘Yeah. And,’ he laughed a little, ‘the clinic recognised me, ha. M’clean. Haven’t had to go back since. Brian doesn’t have anything. I didn’t get it; the virus.’ 

‘Sometimes I wish things were different. Do you?’ 

‘I don’t know what I wish,’ Neil said honestly, and closed his eyes. He wanted to doze, to fall asleep properly, but he didn’t want his nightmares to disturb her. Instead, he retreated to the part of his mind filled with things that were familiar and comfortable. The thought of Brian who – even now – was probably sitting up by some nightlight reading a book on science or art, or even sketching down in his lounge-room. It was strangely soothing to know that Brian knew so much about him already. He had seen Neil’s darkness like Wendy had, and he’d stayed, seen something else worth staying for. Neil didn’t know if they were crazy or just plain idiotic, but he wasn’t about to send them both away. 

He needed them.


	12. Chapter 12

Wendy left and took familiarity with her, and the world looked alien and strange for a couple of days. He kept asking himself; am I really in Hutchinson? How the fuck did this happen? What am I going to fucking do with my life? He thought of Wendy as some kind of lawyer already, and couldn’t imagine anything he would ever be good at, other than telling people how to flip burgers. That wasn’t something he wanted to do for the rest of his life, was it? 

Brian didn’t call for a few days, but that was like him. He didn’t like to spend too long talking on the phone, and generally only called to confirm a time to catch up. Also, Neil thought that maybe Brian needed a bit of space, he’d seemed more pensive than usual the last time they’d caught up, less talkative. If there was one thing they both understood about each other, it was that they would disappear from each other’s lives to deal with their own shit when needed. And even if Neil missed Brian sometimes, or vice versa, they didn’t broach that boundary unless absolutely necessary. 

On the following Monday evening, Brian turned up with a pizza, which he handed off to Eric. Neil looked at him in confusion and then he realised what had happened and turned to Eric:

‘You got him to bring you pizza?’ 

‘I had a craving!’ Eric sooked. He opened the box and took two massive bites out of a slice.

‘You have a _car,_ ’ Neil said, ‘and a _licence._ ’ 

‘I’ve been tired, you have no idea how exhausting it is to be me,’ he said. Brian smiled benignly in the background. 

‘I’ve already had dinner, it wasn’t a bother,’ Brian offered, and Neil glared at him. 

‘You’re a doormat.’

Brian simply shrugged and let his backpack fall heavily to the ground. 

‘I’m here now. Want to walk?’ 

‘Go on,’ Eric said, muffled around a mouthful of crust, ‘leave me to my pizza. I’m not sharing.’ 

Neil snickered, turned and picked up his jacket from where it lay sprawled across the couch. He toed on his sneakers and they were a snug enough fit that he didn’t bother tying up the laces. He lead the way and Brian followed, easier in Neil’s presence than he used to be, but still tense in small ways. 

‘Why’d you do that? Get him something he could’ve gotten for himself?’ 

‘Well, we’re friends,’ Brian said, ‘and it gave me a reason to...’ he trailed off. 

‘Really? Love me that much, huh?’ 

‘I can just as soon go home,’ Brian said, his prim defensiveness rising to the fore. 

‘Come on,’ Neil said, ‘don’t be like that.’ 

They walked in peace for a while. Neil took lazy steps and his sneakers sometimes scuffed on the pavement. Brian’s steps were shorter, so he walked faster to keep up. Their steps almost never fell in sync. Neil listened to the discordant beats and tried to make a song out of it in his head. 

‘I think about it sometimes,’ Brian said, apropos of nothing. Neil squinted, wondered if he should know what he was talking about. 

‘Okay, what?’ Neil said, giving in. 

‘I don’t want to...have...do...you know. Sex. I don’t want to do that. Yet. But I think about it sometimes.’ His voice had gone quieter, like he didn’t want the people in their houses to hear what they were talking about, or – more likely – he still couldn’t stand the subject itself. 

‘Yeah?’ Neil said, to cover his own rushing thoughts.

‘I like what we’ve done. Y’know, it’s been, that is...’ He trailed off, and scrubbed a hand over his face, accidentally knocking his glasses askew. He resettled them and didn’t say anything else. 

‘Whatever.’ 

‘Do you think about it a lot?’ Brian said, uncomfortable. 

‘Fucking you?’ He paused, looked up at the stars. ‘Mm. Yeah. I’ve thought about it. I think about kissing you, actually. But I know, I know that’s not kosher. Anyway, it’s different now, how I think about it.’

‘What do you mean?’ 

‘I think about it less. I...’ Neil stopped, this was too hard, talking about this subject and walking did not go well together. He was used to serious subjects with Brian, but this was one that made him uncomfortable. He ran a hand through his hair and then scratched at the back of his neck. Brian waited, offering open silence.

‘I’m fine with what we’ve done,’ Neil affirmed and then shook his head, ‘but I don’t, I mean,’ he decided to go with crudity, ‘ass-fucking is a problem.’   
Brian’s eyes widened. Neil couldn’t tell if he was shocked at the crassness, the subject, Neil’s admission, and he didn’t want to know. He stared down at his feet and then bent down and did up his shoelaces for something to do. 

When he straightened, Brian was still just staring at him. 

‘Are you gonna fucking stare me all night?’ Neil said, irritable, hostile, unhappy with the direction the conversation had taken, unhappy with the fact that he’d had to admit this at all. 

‘It just surprised me,’ Brian said, apologetic. ‘It used to be more the other way around.’ 

‘Yeah,’ Neil laughed, brittle, ‘it’s ten kinds of fucked up.’

Brian stepped closer and frowned. Neil thought that maybe he was going to be judged, maybe Brian just wouldn’t get it. 

‘It’s also not surprising,’ he said, his voice gentler, even soothing. Neil bristled that Brian even thought he needed that tone of voice, he wanted to scrape against it, push him away, but his heart hammered with appreciation and his face felt flushed. 

‘It’s ironic and shit. That you’re more okay with what we do than I am. You’re going forwards. I’m going backwards.’

‘I don’t think you’re going backwards.’ 

‘No?’ Neil said, angry, ‘what would you call it then?’ 

Brian opened his mouth several times, but silenced every sentence before it could emerge. Finally, he sighed and shoved his hands back into his pockets. 

‘You don’t even know,’ Neil jeered and Brian frowned.

‘I do so. But, that’s not, that doesn’t matter. Um. I think it’s more normal for you to have problems with...this stuff, than to not have problems with it.’ 

‘Feeling like shit is the new normal,’ Neil said, deflated and Brian’s shoulders slumped. 

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t come over to make you feel bad.’ 

‘Then,’ why the fuck did you come over? Neil didn’t finish the sentence. He ground his teeth together. 

‘Talk to me about work,’ Brian said, changing the subject, and Neil gratefully fell into the next subject. 

They started walking again, and talked instead about work, work hours, how no one who deserved to get fired ever really got fired, and any other subject he can think of to get as far away from the subject of him not wanting to fuck ever again. 

*

A week and a half later and Eric was out for the day, on a ‘budget-friendly shopping jaunt’ followed by a ‘budget-friendly night on the town.’ Brian and Neil were sprawled on the couch, two plates of junk-food on the coffee table and half-asleep anyway. The days where they didn’t talk about anything serious were still days where they found a simple and easy connection with each other. Neil leaned on one of the armrests and Brian leaned on the other, and their legs were tangled at their ankles. Brian’s weight had become painful and he had pins and needles in his right foot, but he didn’t care, and was too tired to move. 

A new advertisement came on TV, some food product that he was hardly interested in. The mom was trying to convince her son that it was the best food ever, and the son was refusing to eat it. 

Then she said, ‘open your mouth wide.’ 

Neil’s eyes widened, he jerked his ankles out from between Brian’s and swung upright. The advertisement passed into the show they were watching, but Neil hardly noticed. His chest felt tight and breathing was becoming a challenge. 

The foot with pins and needles was a deadweight on the ground, and the toes in his other foot curled with distress. Something wasn’t right, and Neil didn’t know what it was. And in his head, the words ‘open your mouth wide,’ hammered and hammered, until it echoed in his heart and in the pulse points throughout his body. It felt like a blackout, how quickly the scenery of his lounge-room melted into a bedroom with a sparkly, speckled ceiling that smelled of sex and all those things that Neil had once found so fucking hot. 

He couldn’t get out of that room, and for the first time in memory he wanted to. He was angry at himself for projecting emotions onto the whole event that he was sure he hadn’t felt at the time, had he? No. What happened with Coach was right, and fine, and what the fuck was happening? His fingers scrabbled at his chest. It felt half-allergic response, half-terror, and mostly ‘the world is ending.’ He’d never felt anything like it. He wanted to claw his own lungs open. And there, in his chest, his heart was a burning, hungry organ, unforgiving and painful. 

Someone jostled him and he turned to ask them to stop, but he couldn’t see anything other than subdued lighting, Coach near him, the room, the room, the room. He was going insane, he was sure. This was...he didn’t have a word for what this was. 

Time passed and he gasped himself back into awareness. He was light-headed, dizzy, tired, wide-awake, too alert and foggy all at the same time. 

The TV was off, and Brian was crouching in front of him, upset and frightened. 

‘Neil?’ Brian said, his voice shaking. Spasmodically, he reached up and wiped at his nose, that old gesture to see if any blood was coming. It wasn’t. In that moment Neil realised with a startling clarity just how far Brian had come. He hadn’t seen that gesture in maybe a month or more, even though they’d discussed difficult things since. 

‘I don’t feel so good,’ he heard himself say, and his voice cracked. He swallowed, and realised his mouth was dry. He started to reach for a can of pop, but Brian saw and handed it to him. 

‘Water would be better,’ Brian said, thin and worried. 

Neil drank half the can and felt it all sloshing around in his stomach. His internal organs felt cold, his forehead hot. 

‘You, you had a p-panic attack,’ Brian said, eyes widening at the reality of what he was saying. 

‘Why are you getting so much better?’ Neil said, antagonistic and brittle, ‘why am I getting so much worse?’ 

‘I don’t know,’ Brian said, rather uselessly, Neil thought. He felt vulnerable and awkward and awful. He wanted to kick Brian until he went away. Wanted to bury himself in forgetting and not thinking about it. Wanted violence and tearing holes into the world. 

‘I wish I could make it stop,’ Brian added and Neil sneered. 

‘No, you don’t. You started this shit. You wanted someone to talk to about it,’ Neil was standing now, mad and unable to sit still, his foot alive and painful beneath him where it was waking up, ‘you wanted someone who _knew._ You fucking pushed at me, made me become this fucked up piece of shit.’ 

Brian stood. His expression had shifted from worried, to confused, to defensive, and now he just looked angry. His eyes were glinting behind his glasses, and his teeth were clenched in his jaw. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again, took a deep, deliberate breath and sighed it out. Neil thought he should try to do the same thing, but when he attempted to drag more oxygen into his lungs, they wouldn’t cooperate. 

About a minute passed, a minute where Neil felt jittery, felt like he wanted to get high, just do something, and then Brian finally said: 

‘I didn’t make you like this.’ 

‘Fucking seriously?’ Neil said, incredulous. ‘I might have gone through my whole fucking life and been fine.’ 

Brian shook his head and looked really mad, and Neil didn’t care, he _wanted_ to fight. He wanted to see how far Brian would go. He wanted Brian yelling at him and making him not think about what just happened and why it happened and how _easy_ it was to slip down that far, that fast. 

‘Quit doing this!’ Brian shouted, ‘you keep making these sorts of excuses, you’re so _dumb_ sometimes, and you do it on purpose so you don’t have to think about anything. It’s not like you want me to talk about what I think, because you can’t handle it, so why do you say this...this _shit_ that makes me want to point out what’s actually happening?’ 

Brian paused, waited for a response, but Neil was rendered mute, and Brian wrung his hands together as he continued. 

‘You were done when you came back from New York. Remember? You were _done._ It had nothing to do with me, you didn’t know me! You hardly remembered me! I didn’t hurt you or beat you up like that...like that man did, and you weren’t fine when that happened, and you weren’t fine when you met me, and you weren’t fine that Christmas Eve when I had to help you out of the house, just like you’d helped me into it, because you were so _out of it._ ’ 

‘Stop it,’ Neil heard himself say. 

‘I might have a-accelerated whatever downward spiral you’re on, but you were on it already. You could’ve got HIV, you could’ve been murdered, you were raped, and-’

‘Okay,’ Neil said, taking a step back and accidentally stumbling on the corner of the coffee table. 

‘I didn’t make you like this,’ Brian said, irritated as hell, from what Neil could see, ‘and I’m tired of you saying it all the time to make yourself feel better, to have someone to blame who’s a s-safe target. I don’t like it. I’m worried about you and the first thing you do is blame me. I wasn’t the one who molested you, I wasn’t even the one recruiting other kids to be hurt by that man like you were! If anyone had a right to say ‘you made me this way,’ it’s _me_ , and I’m not saying it, so stop saying it!’ 

Brian was exhaling hard by the time he’d finished, and his hand shot up to check the underside of his nose again. It still wasn’t bleeding, but the gesture was telling. Neil could hear himself trying to gather his breath, and though it wasn’t as hard as during whatever ‘panic attack’ he may have had, it was still difficult. 

It was the first time Brian had ever talked about how he’d been recruited before, the first time he’d done it in anger, the first time he’d brought up the fact that Neil had a hand in taking him home that rainy night, for _those_ reasons. 

Neil felt it like a thick, black weight in his gut. He wanted to be sick. 

A moment later he bolted to the toilet and threw up bile, junk-food, the fizziness of acidic pop. The taste alone was enough to keep him retching. 

Brian hadn’t followed, and Neil tried not to think about why, tried not to think about what a monster he was for doing all those things to Brian, tried and failed. He flushed and made his way into the bathroom, rinsed his mouth and swallowed mouthfuls of tap-water. He wanted to brush his teeth but thought he might throw up again, so instead he just put toothpaste directly into his mouth with his finger, gargled it, spat it out.   
He didn’t want to leave the bathroom. 

He didn’t want to go back out into the lounge where Brian was. Dammit, it had been such a good fucking day too. Lazy and easy and relaxed. 

‘ _Fuck!_ ’ he shouted into the bathroom sink, and then, ‘fuck,’ in an undertone as he rested his forearms around the basin and his head sank down. 

He heard footsteps and tensed, and then tensed hard when he felt a light hand between his shoulder-blades. 

‘I shouldn’t have said anything,’ Brian said, and Neil shook his head. 

‘You’re right though.’

‘No, you don’t hear me properly, when you’re like this. I...’ Brian sighed, ‘you didn’t hear me. I don’t think you made me this way.’ 

‘You don’t know,’ Neil said, and the hand on his back became fingers curling down his spine. He shivered. 

‘Would you’ve done those things to me, if you’d never met him?’ Brian said, and Neil squinted into the basin. All he could smell was the minty-freshness of toothpaste, but he could taste bile in the back of his throat. 

‘Maybe.’ 

‘Sure,’ Brian scoffed, ‘I don’t mean to correct you, but I don’t think so. I bet you would have been an annoying mischief-maker, as a kid, and probably a bully, but I don’t think you would have done _that._ ’ 

‘You don’t know. It’s fucked up that we’re even talking about this.’ 

There was silence then, and even though it must have been awkward, Brian raised his other hand and put it on Neil’s back. It gentled him, even though he didn’t want it to, even though his blood still felt like it had bubbles in it. Those two points of contact, and he didn’t even want to stand, he had no idea what Brian was offering but he wanted to drown in it. His forearms were starting to hurt where they were braced on the sink. 

‘So...what, what made you freak out?’ Brian said and Neil shook his head, the only clue he had was that stupid sentence, ‘open your mouth wide,’ and he didn’t want to talk about it, he didn’t want Brian to be right, he didn’t want any of it. 

One of the hands rubbed back and forth, back and forth, warmth over his shoulder blade. He wanted what Brian was offering, but the price was too high. Awkwardly, he stood up and faced Brian, stared at him, felt blank and empty. Brian’s hands hung by his side. Neil still felt the impression of them on his back. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but words wouldn’t come. In the end he just walked back into the lounge and started watching TV again. Brian did the same thing a moment later. At first he kept glancing at Neil as though expecting him to say something, but as time passed he settled back into the couch and stretched his legs out. They tangled their ankles together again, and Neil could barely tell what he was watching, he was so tired. 

*

Neil dozed, and when he woke up, an hour later, he felt brittle and irritated. He turned and saw Brian still watching TV, a sleepy look on his face. Their ankles were still touching, but both of his feet were awake this time. His fingers curled against the nubby fabric of the sofa and against his own shirt. He exhaled slow and deliberate. 

He turned and paused, and Brian turned over to look at him. His face was slack with sleepiness, his lips full, his hair mussed from shifting on the sofa so often.

‘I’m comin’ over,’ Neil warned him, which was more than he would usually offer anyone else. 

Brian’s eyes narrowed, like he didn’t understand, and then they widened when Neil straddled his legs, when he bracketed his arms on either side of his shoulders. Other people might have found manoeuvring on a sofa uncomfortable, but Neil was used to doing this kind of shit in cars, in toilets, in single beds, on chairs, and nothing really bothered him anymore. 

He realised he was hard, and he _wanted._ He wanted something from Brian that he wasn’t sure Brian was willing to give. 

‘Wh-what are you doing?’ Brian said, and Neil just stared down at him, wondering where to start, what to _do._ Kissing wasn’t allowed, no tongue exploring what he was sure would be an afternoon-sour, hot mouth that would turn sweet as he chased the old sugar out of it, so instead he lowered his head and licked at his stubble, traced his tongue down to the place where neck met jaw. Brian made a startled sound, his body jerked. One of his arms reached up, but instead of pushing him away, his hand just clung onto Neil’s upper arm. 

‘Neil-’

‘Shut up,’ Neil said against the heat of his neck, annoyed for no good reason. He felt him swallow against the side of his face and bit at his earlobe for good measure. 

‘Sh-shit,’ Brian said, and Neil took that as permission. Brian’s whole torso shifted so that it was easier to access his lower body, and Neil ground down hungrily. Even through clothing, it felt good. But he didn’t want good and gentle and easy. He wanted fast and unforgiving and taking. 

He licked and bit at Brian’s neck, distracting him as his hand moved between them and made short work of Brian’s fly. When his hand slipped beneath boxers, Brian tensed, and Neil shook his head. 

‘You scared?’ 

‘I don’t know what you’re doing,’ Brian gasped, and then made a low, full noise in the back of his throat as Neil grasped his length and wished for lube, or _something,_ but decided friction would have to do. It matched his mood anyway. Brian’s breathing went shallow, he squirmed, his mouth fell open. Neil could feel the breaths on his cheek. They made his dick jump. 

‘You didn’t answer my question,’ Neil said, moving his hand again, drinking in Brian’s shifts, his tension so clear alongside his arousal. 

‘A-a little.’ 

‘This is so fucked up,’ Neil muttered, trying to prove something to him, though he didn’t know what. He stuck his tongue into Brian’s ear and tasted soap and wax and licked until the taste went away and Brian twisted and moaned and Neil grinned because damn, he was good at this.

‘It-it doesn’t have to be fucked up,’ Brian said, voice hoarse. 

Neil ignored him, rolled his whole body over Brian’s, moved his hand firmly, and Brian arched as his hips responded and Neil didn’t even care about himself anymore, he just cared about reducing Brian to a limp mass of pliancy. He only cared about the outcome. 

‘I don’t,’ Brian started, and then stopped and grunted when Neil bit at his collarbone, hard this time, ‘maybe this isn’t a good idea.’ 

Neil’s hand moved faster and Brian groaned, his hand scrabbled for a moment on Neil’s arm and then gripped even harder, fingers digging in with a bruising pressure. 

‘Should I stop?’ Neil said, bored with patience, bored with taking it slow, bored with reassurance and gentleness and all that other bullshit. But he would still ask. He would still ask because he wanted Brian willing. His hand was still moving as he waited for an answer. He didn’t think Brian would take too long to blow his load, even with all his hang-ups. 

Brian screwed his eyes up, trying to concentrate, and then he seemed to come to the same decision Neil had made five minutes ago. He shook his head. 

‘D-don’t stop,’ he whispered, his cheeks red. 

‘I just wanna take it from you, anyway,’ Neil said, his own voice straining from the force of what he wanted and Brian shivered. 

‘Wh-what?’ 

‘Shut up and find out.’ 

Neil leaned forward and closed his teeth around Brian’s throat, and his reaction to that was electric. Brian’s spine bent in a curve, twisted up, pressed their hips together hard. His other hand flew up and landed on Neil’s scalp, and soon fingers tugged impatiently on his hair. Neil thought, for a second, that Brian was saying ‘stop,’ but when he lifted his head to ask, Brian’s hand shoved him back down again. When Neil laid his teeth back over his throat, Brian sighed and his fingers gentled, stroked as if to say ‘good, good.’ Neil shuddered. 

‘You kinky fuck,’ Neil managed, scraping his teeth from jawbone to collarbone and gathering up every single hitched breath he heard along the way, tucking it under his heart so he could remember it later. 

‘It’s...all those stupid movies...Eric...uh,’ Brian didn’t finish his sentence, groaned instead. Neil was starting to get uncomfortable, leaning his weight on one arm and his legs, moving his hips even as he kept enough room to keep moving his hand on Brian’s hard on. 

He started to shift, but Brian had other ideas. The fingers in his hair turned into a hand gripping, pulling, and Neil resisted at first and then went with it, felt his head get pulled back, turned to the side. He didn’t know what Brian was doing until he felt it, teeth biting down on the side of his neck, a tongue behind it, hot and warm and fluid. 

‘ _Fuck,_ ’ Neil exhaled, and felt the tension in Brian’s lips, the smile. 

Any other time, maybe he would have gone with it. Maybe it would have become more about give and take, because he liked this side of Brian, unexplored as it was. Because he thought it was good for him to have a space to explore this side of himself, and because let’s face it, Neil knew he could be lazy, and wouldn’t mind if Brian sometimes picked up some of the slack. But there was a hard, hollow pit in his gut and a fervent hunger that thrummed through his pulse points and it said not today, not today, not today. He moved his head back and stuck his tongue in Brian’s ear, and his hand down between Brian’s legs moved faster despite the soreness in his wrist. 

Brian whined, his breathing stuttered and then found a faster, deeper pace. Neil knew he was close, knew it from the way the hand in his hair simply hung on, from the way the other hand on his arm dug fingers in. And he knew it from the way his hips were basically vibrating up against Neil’s pumping wrist and hand, from the trembling. 

‘Come on,’ Neil said, under his breath, right into Brian’s ear. ‘Come on, come _on._ ’ 

Brian’s mouth opened on a cry but snapped shut halfway through on a short, keening whine. His back tensed hard and Neil bit his own tongue in response as body-warm jets of come shot onto his hand, onto their clothing. Neil rode it out with Brian, and then pressed his head down onto Brian’s shoulder and reached between them both, snuck a come-slick hand into his own jeans after undoing the fly and then came so fast that Brian was still gathering his breath when Neil was done. 

Neil dropped heavy and tired, wedged between the couch and half on top of Brian’s body. Their chests were heaving, and it smelled like sex, or whoring, or some of those times with Coach, and Neil swallowed and tried not to think about it, and failed. 

‘Are you,’ Brian started, and then inhaled and began again, ‘are you okay?’ 

‘Fuck off,’ Neil said, rolling his eyes, even though they were closed. 

Minutes passed, and Brian shifted and rested one of his arms over Neil’s back in a sleepy embrace. Neil couldn’t decide if he liked it, or if it was wimpy and pathetic. He decided he’d leave it for a bit before making a decision. 

‘Are you okay?’ He heard himself ask. 

Brian cleared his throat, shivered. 

‘I-I don’t know.’ 

Neil frowned. He’d been thinking so hard about the hunger, the wanting and the taking that he hadn’t imagined how it would be afterwards. The awkwardness and hesitation and shyness. 

‘I just,’ Brian stopped and made a small, wet sound of frustration. Neil raised his head, but Brian’s eyes were dry, he looked confused, hurt, sated, beautiful, but he didn’t look like he was going to cry. 

‘What?’ 

‘I just can’t stop thinking about it, sometimes.’ 

Neil closed his eyes. Of course. Their past loomed between them, thicker than blood. Probably the way he’d gone about everything hadn’t helped.

‘Me too,’ Neil admitted, helpless, ‘me too.’ 

Brian’s hand fisted into the back of Neil’s shirt. Anger, empathy, or something else entirely, Neil couldn’t even tell. 

Brian fell asleep first, and Neil followed soon after.

*

Later, after a subdued dinner of noodles, because neither felt like take-away, Brian went through Neil’s collector’s cards with a serious expression on his face. He lay them all out, and then started grouping them together. Neil realised with a smile that he was grouping them by hair colour, the pile of redheads sadly forlorn. 

‘Do you still have the cassette?’ Brian asked suddenly. 

Neil’s mouth went dry, he froze. Last time this had come up, things had not gone well for him, for any of them, even Eric. That whole event had seared in his mind as something he didn’t want to think about again anytime soon. Brian stopped sorting the cards and looked up at him. 

‘I’m not going to get mad,’ Brian said, gentle. 

‘No?’ 

‘I promise,’ he said, even softer now, his voice retreating to that place where Neil’s ears had to reach to hear him. 

Neil started at his knee for a minute longer and then stood up, sat down on his bed instead. He spread his fingers out absently on the bedspread and felt the cassette like a physical presence in the chest of drawers next to him. 

‘Yep,’ he said in eventual answer. His mouth was dry, and he tried to work some saliva, but what he swallowed was thick and hardly helped. He reached out for the glass of water and let the single remaining mouthful of twelve hour old water do the job for him. 

Brian didn’t say anything, and Neil didn’t look at him. 

‘I can’t listen to it anymore,’ he said, after some time had passed. It could have been hours, for all he knew, but it was probably only five minutes.  
Brian waited, and Neil wondered if it helped that he wasn’t saying anything. That he wasn’t yelling at him or stealing his stuff. Neil’s cheeks flushed and he put the glass of water back down on the drawers and folded his hands in his lap. 

‘It’s like finding out the apple that tasted so good has a worm in it. And then...’ he couldn’t finish the sentence. Even admitting that much to Brian was like prodding at some terrible, internal wound. He shook his head in the futility of trying to communicate anything at all, when Brian stood up and clambered onto the bed. 

When he reached out to put a hand on Neil’s shoulder, Neil jerked away and then looked at him, a firm ‘no’ in his expression. 

Brian hung back, his bottom lip bitten between his teeth, his eyes wide and worried. Neil wanted to tell him to go away, to take his stupid comfort and his stupid affection and get out of his goddamn house. 

Instead, he leaned forwards and Brian’s hand shot out straight away, wrapping around him. Neither decided they’d lie down, but they both ended up lying side by side anyway. Neil couldn’t close his eyes, and they gazed at each other. After a moment, Neil rested his own hand on Brian’s chest and left it there. 

In that moment, their brokenness was the most visible thing about both of them.


	13. Chapter 13

Life evened out as much as it ever did. Neil threw himself into work, something he would have been shocked to know about himself only a year earlier. In the background, an instability percolated down in his gut, made him taste acid on the back of his tongue first thing in the morning. 

He’d seen the advertisement that had triggered him when he’d seen it with Brian, again, and though he’d reacted with goosebumps and a blurring of his vision, it still wasn’t as bad as the full-blown panic attack he’d first experienced. Still, it felt like it was only a matter of time before something else shot through him, left him shaking and scrambling for breath. He refused to say the words ‘panic attack,’ out loud. It sounded weak as shit, and he wasn’t interested in that.

Sometimes he spent his time thinking about the last time he’d gotten Brian off. He’d been hungry with lust, and Brian had let himself be taken up in the moment, but Neil was still uncomfortable with how much he’d pushed, how easy it would be to push that hard again. He felt like an unpredictable firework. He wanted to be softer and gentler for Brian, but he wasn’t a soft or gentle person. So far, Brian seemed to be able to handle it, but what if one day he couldn’t? What then? 

But his worries didn’t stop him replaying Brian’s expression, the sounds, the clumsy movements on couches in his head. It got him through late night shifts, balancing cash registers, dealing with angry customers. 

When he tried to replay older sexual encounters with strange men, encounters that had gotten him off in the past, it no longer worked. Fucking was a turn off. Whether he was on top or not, it just left him cold. Old hotels, motels that rented rooms by the hour, alleyways, almost all of those encounters had lost their thrill. Even some of his most cherished memories with hot, ravenous clients, who had cared about his pleasure and blown him like champions...it didn’t work. 

It was Brian, or nothing at all. He hated that too. He never planned on telling him about it. There were times he’d walk past old parks that he’d frequented and wonder why he didn’t feel the pull like he used to. But he never allowed himself to think about it for too long. Beneath it all was the simmering reality that his relationship with Coach had changed, and Coach hadn’t even been there to have a say. It didn’t bear thinking about.

*

Saturday afternoon and he was home trying to scrub a stain out of his uniform. He scowled at it, mad as hell at the trainee who had slipped and sent ketchup flying everywhere. It had gone the old brown colour of a blood-stain and he scrubbed harder. He hadn’t fired the trainee, but Christ, did everyone in this podunk town have to be so fucking stupid? 

He turned when he heard a knock at the door, but Eric shouted: ‘I’ll get it!’ 

A moment later he heard his mom’s voice and he started washing his hands and drying them automatically. What was his mom doing here? She rarely visited without calling first, wanting to ‘give you boys your privacy, who knows what or who you’d be doing!’ He automatically thought of horrible things, maybe she was sick, maybe someone in the family had died (not that he cared, he didn’t give a shit about that whole ‘blood is thicker than water’ crap.) 

He walked into the lounge and she was standing there, looking...worried? Haunted. Something. She was in the middle of asking Eric to give them some space. 

‘Sure, I’ve gotta head down to the store anyway and pick up some stuff. Neil ate us out of macaroni and cheese again.’ Despite the light-heartedness in his tone, he cast a concerned glance in Neil’s direction before picking up his keys and wallet on the way out. The door closed behind him, and Neil felt adrift. 

‘Mom?’ Neil said, ‘what is it?’ 

‘I don’t know where to start,’ she said, laughing nervously. Start what? Neil thought. He gestured to the sofa, checking if she wanted to sit down, but instead she shook her head. It was a fretful, jerky movement. He wasn’t used to seeing her like this at all. 

‘You’re not sick?’ he said, thinking about hospitals and hospital smells and bad hospital food and chemotherapy and all that other stuff that Eric talked about sometimes. 

‘No, no honey, I’m not sick,’ she said, but was thoroughly unconvincing. She was paler than usual beneath her foundation, and her lips had a pinched look about them. In that moment, she looked every single one of her years, no longer young at heart. She looked down and then looked at him again, a searching, disbelieving look. 

‘I was at the shops today, and I saw Barbara. You know, Brian’s mom. And we’ve never been close. I mean, she was all uppity in highschool, you can imagine. She wasn’t the kind of person I...well, anyway. I thought because you boys were so close now, I’d better go over and introduce myself again, have a quick chat. Make amends.’

Neil swallowed, his heart started to hammer in his chest. He became acutely aware of small details. The fact that he’d splashed water when scrubbing the stain and now had a wet patch on his jeans over his left thigh, and another just above his bellybutton. He became aware that his feet were cold. That he hadn’t dried off his hands properly and parts of his fingers were still wet.

‘Barbara, she said some things. Some things that...shocked me and I didn’t believe her. Of course I didn’t. But, then I thought about them, I thought about them, and honey, I have to ask-’

‘Wait,’ Neil said desperately, ‘Stop. This-’

‘Baby, did he hurt you? Did that man hurt you?’ Her face screwed up as she asked it, as though she truly couldn’t believe those words would ever leave her mouth. She clenched at the front of her shirt, and despite the age on her face, the posture spoke of a six year old admitting to a bad thing. 

And Neil’s heart, it was pounding and pounding and pounding. He couldn’t even see properly. There were black spots in front of his eyes and a hollow rushing in his ears. Someone had turned on a vacuum cleaner in his head and he couldn’t make it stop.

He had to get out of there. He couldn’t deal with this. Not now. Not on her terms. Not like this. 

Without thinking, he made to get past her, and she grabbed his forearm. He froze.

‘ _Neil,_ ’ she said, demanding an answer with only the use of his name. 

He couldn’t look at her. 

‘It wasn’t like that,’ he said. 

There was a long silence, and then he couldn’t help it, he looked at her. He was almost at level now that she was standing, and found her expression. She was confused, and then she looked hopeful, relieved even. 

‘So he didn’t touch you?’ 

Neil swallowed. He had nothing to say to that. That’s not what he meant. Of course Coach had _touched_ him. And he’d wanted it. It had been _fine._ It wasn’t like some daytime television bullshit that she was imagining, was it? And that made it different. It wasn’t the same. He wasn’t like Brian. He’d consented. He’d been willing. Screw all those lectures Brian had given him about how much a child’s consent mattered when it came to child sexual abuse. Brian didn’t know shit. 

But his silence was answer enough, it seemed. He took a step back when her shoulders heaved. This was one of the most uncomfortable, awkward things he’d ever experienced, and he could hardly think in complete sentences, let alone say them. 

‘No,’ she said, wretched, ‘no, I’m wrong, tell me I’m wrong, _baby,_ please!’

He couldn’t. Coach had touched him. And he knew with a sudden, startling clarity, that if he said something like ‘yes, but I’d wanted it,’ his mom would never have understood. Maybe it would have been worse. 

Her shoulders shuddered under the force of her sobs which started silent but were building in volume. He wanted to reach out to her. He wanted to get out of there. Both impulses tore at him over and over again. He couldn’t handle this. He couldn’t be the one to cradle his mom through something that she hadn’t even known about at the time and didn’t really know about now. He couldn’t be the one to tell her it was okay when it wasn’t. He couldn’t be that person for her. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. 

He took a deep, gasping breath and turned to grab his keys. She hardly noticed, clutching arms around herself and streaming tears so that they audibly dripped onto the carpet. She was trying to hold her sobs in, but it wasn’t working. 

It was only when he opened the door that she noticed he’d moved at all. She turned to him and said, ‘W-wait.’ 

He turned back to her, heart moving at a blistering gallop inside his own chest. He stared at her and felt nothing. Suddenly, with no warning, he heard Wendy’s words inside his head, the words she’d said to Brian: ‘There’s wild dogs in the world that don’t want to be saved, even if they look lost and lonesome.’ He wasn’t interested in being saved. And he didn’t have the energy to save his mom. 

Like he’d told himself, it happened. It happened. 

He closed the door behind him and shut out the sobs as they got louder again, shut out his wrecked mom, and walked away without looking back. 

*

He wandered aimlessly. Intermittent jogging spells and a habit of walking when he was bored gave him the fitness to disappear in his mind for hours while he meandered up and down streets. Some he knew well, some he hardly knew at all. He passed dog-walkers and well-kept yards and those with overgrown grass and straggling weeds. He passed new cars and old cars and the shells of cars in the kinds of yards where people had a better idea of where their shotgun was than their car keys.

Aside from maintaining a hold onto a vague sense of direction, his mind was empty of thoughts, his feelings had been swept away in the sandstorm that had blown thrown him. 

Hours drifted by him, and there were no words, no sentences, nothing but vague impressions of the world around him, the prickling of his skin as the sun started to burn it, the occasional gust of wind which brought the smells of spring and summer to him. 

At some point, he ended up on his own street, drifting back home. His mom’s car was no longer in the driveway, and Eric was back. The sun was almost completely below the horizon, the world cast in the colour of bruises as the light left. It occurred to Neil suddenly that he had a split shift, which was why he’d been scrubbing at his uniform in the first place. He probably had to get to work. He was maybe even late. He had no idea what the time was. 

He walked in, and went straight to the bathroom, stripping and shrugging on his damp, stained shirt, with the ketchup stain that resembled blood. It was faded now, but he’d still probably have to buy a new one. Automatically, he went and pulled on his work shoes, grabbed his name-tag that he was obligated to wear, the routine that he was used to before a shift. 

‘Is...everything okay?’ Eric was standing in his doorway, his big, worried eyes prepared for catastrophe, disaster. If there was one thing Eric could handle, it was disaster. Neil swallowed. He didn’t even know what words he could offer in a situation like this. He had nothing to give. 

‘I’ve got work,’ Neil mumbled, and walked past Eric, who swung back to give him room. 

‘Your shirt is wet,’ Eric said, and Neil shrugged. It was only another few minutes and he was out the door again, brain giving him nothing more than the rushing sound a waterfall makes as you approach it. 

*

He couldn’t get himself together at his shift. The boss was there, and he expressed some concern; ‘are you comin’ down with something, son?’ And Neil had moved his head back and forth to indicate that no, he wasn’t coming down with something, and then he’d stared blankly at the fryers and the workers and the stack of cup holders and realised that he couldn’t put his world back together again. It had been broken, and he couldn’t make it into what it was, not ever again.

The hand on his shoulder startled him. He didn’t care where it came from, or what it meant, or where he was going. For a moment he was back in the past, being pushed into a motel room, ducking his head as he slid into a car, walking into a particular alley. But then he came back and it was people ordering food at the front counter and the sound of cars pulling up and idling at drive-thru and everything else that marked the present as being separate from the past.

And then he was in his boss’ little-used office, with its tiny desk and tiny file cabinet and stained coffee-mug. He stood, feeling too big for his body, too out of it to even be mad that he was acting like this. 

‘Look, son, I’ve known some people who’ve been through some shit, and they’ve behaved a lot like you’re behaving right now,’ his boss said, taking out Neil’s file and opening it up. Neil thought maybe he was going to be fired. He couldn’t bring himself to care. It hadn’t even occurred to him that he hadn’t done anything to be fired for. 

‘I’m not gonna ask you if someone’s died, or what, but I am gonna call someone to come pick you up. You’ve listed two people here, in case of emergencies. Which one should I get, Mom or Eric?’ The boss looked up and Neil stared at him, hardly seeing a thing. He shifted through the words and opened his mouth with a dry, clicking sound. 

‘Eric,’ he said, voice hoarse. 

‘Sit down there, you look like you’re gonna come tumbling down otherwise.’

Neil sat woodenly in the chair that had seen so many people hired and fired. It was as uncomfortable as it was the day that he’d been told he had the job. He zoned out while the phone call was made, stared at a peeling piece of wood veneer on the wall. 

He had nothing left. He was scoured out. 

*

Eric took longer to arrive than usual, since he made a trip to pick up Brian first. Seeing them both appear in the doorway, like a couple of lost boys trying to find their Peter Pan, made Neil realise he’d been sitting in the same stiff chair for too long. It was night, he had no idea who was covering for him. He stood up, shook his head. 

‘You shouldn’t have come. I can get myself home.’ 

‘We’re here now,’ Eric said, lightly. Brian said nothing, just stared at Neil with the kind of directness that suggested he was asking questions in his head, finding things out without saying a word. Neil felt naked in front of Brian, he felt raw.

‘Come on,’ Eric said, and Neil followed. He turned just as he was about to walk out of the doors, to see if he could find his boss, to say goodbye, or thank you, or apologise, but couldn’t see him at all. He was probably out the front. Maybe his boss was covering for him.

In the car, he said nothing. Eric asked him what was up, and Neil stared out of the window and felt all the language wash over him, like he was a big, dull stone in a river. 

‘Let’s stop here,’ Brian said after a couple of minutes, and Eric pulled over next to the park bathed in moonlight and the single glow of a lonely streetlight. 

Brian got out and Neil did the same, followed him into the centre where the grass was a mottled green-brown and dirt was showing up in places where kids had kicked wads of lawn up from the ground. They all sat down facing each other, and Neil picked aimlessly at blades of grass, making a small pile by his right shoe. 

‘Mom knows,’ Neil said, flat.

Brian said nothing, but his sharp intake of breath suggested he didn’t know that his own mom had gone blabbing. 

‘I’ve ruined her life,’ he heard himself say, voice lower now, the words pulling themselves up out of his esophagus. ‘She’s gonna hate herself. She’s gonna-’

‘I-it’s not your fau-’ Brian started.

‘Fuck. Off. I don’t wanna hear that dumbass shit. I don’t wanna hear your shit about blaming the right person, goddamnit!’ And just like that, Neil was shouting, standing in the park, angry and simmering with heat. ‘I’m tired of hearing about it!’ 

He stood there, waiting for Brian to stand up, to yell back, to take the bait. But instead Brian and Eric just sat there on the ground, looking up at him. He clenched his teeth hard, raised his hands halfway up to his head to do god knows what and then let them fall to his sides again. 

‘You’re both so fuckin’ pathetic, just sitting there like idiotic do-gooders in some hicktown where you need a project like me to feel good about yourselves. Is that it? Nothing to say to that? Come on, Preston, what about you, huh? Having to wear earplugs every night just to get some fuckin’ sleep, don’t even have the guts to move out.’

Eric opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. He _still_ didn’t look angry, just sad. 

‘And your mom,’ Neil said, rounding on Brian, ‘is fuckin’ _nuts._ What is she doing telling my mom about something like that, huh? How was that her business? She didn’t even fuckin’ _ask_ first, who does that?’ 

Brian’s eyes widened, he swallowed hard. 

‘I don’t, I didn’t know she was going to do that.’ 

‘I wish I’d never met you,’ Neil said, bleak, knees bending as he knelt on the ground. His head tipped forwards into his hands and a storm of emotion bubbled inside of him, it pressed at his throat and his chest, lanced into the back of his eyes. He thought if he were anywhere near normal, this might be a perfect time to cry, but instead he just wanted to tear his own eyes out, beat Brian bloody, kick Eric in the ribs until he felt the snap. Violence thrummed in his fingers and he dug fingernails into his scalp to deal with it. The pain helped, but not enough. 

‘How am I gonna talk to her again the next time I see her?’ he said through the gap in his palms. ‘It’s gonna be something that’s always between us now.’ 

‘Neil,’ Eric said, voice small, ‘I’m no shrink, but I do know there was always something between you and your mom. Now it’s just...out in the open.’

‘Do you really wish you’d never met me?’ Brian said, words which made Neil look up, look over. Brian was looking down at the grass, fists clenched in his lap, and he grimaced. He didn’t have the energy to deal with this. He didn’t have the energy to apologise. He was tired. He wanted to rend the world in two. He didn’t want gentle. 

‘What do you think?’ Neil said, belligerent. ‘Jesus. Do I have to spell it out?’

He stood, shoved his hands in his pockets.

‘Now, is someone gonna drive me home? Or am I gonna have to walk?’

Neil walked back to the car without waiting for them. The day, and everyone in it, could go to hell. 

*

The next day, and the day after, and the day after that passed in a blur. He rocked up to work the next day only to find out that his boss was giving him a paid break, and instead of feeling grateful, he went home wondering what the fuck he was going to do with his time. Where to put the itchy, crazy feelings inside of him. 

He hardly talked to Eric, his mom didn’t call, and he didn’t return Brian’s calls. Tension built inside of him, and it was the next Saturday that he found himself loitering at his old park, outside one of the toilets, chain-smoking and projecting a nonchalance that he didn’t feel. 

It didn’t take long. Two cars drove by and slowed down, changed their minds, sped off. The third car slowed down, stopped, idled. The man within gazed directly at Neil, and Neil stubbed out his cigarette and sauntered towards him, mouth salivating with the need to sublimate all the stupid, dumbass feelings inside of him, the need to place himself in that empty oblivion strangers could offer him. 

He got into the passenger seat, smelled stale pizza and looked into the back seat for old pizza boxes, but couldn’t find any. 

And then without even checking rates, or whether the guy was good for it, he turned sideways and placed his hand into the man’s crotch. Close up, the guy wasn’t bad-looking, his face as hard angles and that intermediary stubble that wasn’t quite a beard but was no longer a 5’o’clock shadow. The thigh beneath his hand was muscular and taut, the dick hardening satisfyingly in his hand. Neil could hear his breathing speed up, felt lust and something else blow hard through him, not entirely comfortable, but...too late to back out now. 

‘Yeah, you’re really hot for it, huh?’ The guy drawled, and Neil asked him to shut up in his mind, and then said:

‘Yeah.’ 

‘I got a place we can go back to, you’d like that, huh? Some privacy?’ 

Neil blinked, hard. His hand accidentally spasmed over the man’s dick and the guy groaned in arousal. For a moment, his mind went blank. 

‘Your car’s fine,’ Neil said, quickly. 

‘But a place is better, huh? I got money, look,’ the guy arched up into Neil’s hand while fumbling for his wallet, and Neil’s skin actually _crawled_. He had no idea what was going on, and he looked down at the gear stick to try and distract himself from the feelings thrumming through him. 

The man presented his wallet, opened it, and there were at least a few hundreds in there, smooth and new. 

‘I got the whole night free. You’d like that, huh? Come back to my place, it’ll be sweet.’

Neil’s hand withdrew as the man put his car into gear. 

‘Uh,’ Neil said, a lance of terror bolting through him, and he opened the passenger door, stumbling out into the lazy afternoon light. 

‘Hey, dude, what the fuck?’ The guy said. He didn’t sound truly aggressive, just confused, but the words were blurring into familiar phrases of hate and frenzy. His head pounded like someone was whaling on it with a shampoo bottle. His breathing was coming harder, and he stumbled a few more steps. When the man started to say something else, Neil didn’t even bother to follow up with an apology or a ‘you’re not my type,’ he simply ran.

At first he didn’t have a plan. He had nothing. He had the smell of cigarettes and tar cloying his throat and a blistering headache. He couldn’t find a decent jogging rhythm because anxiety had turned his breathing erratic. He cut across the park and put distance between himself and the memory he’d found there in that person’s car. His breath came in jags, cruel claws pulling at his throat and lungs. He felt trapped. He felt like it was one of those dreams where he was attempting to run hard, but couldn’t move at all.

Time and location blurred, he slowed to a fast walk, and then finally his regular walk. 

It wasn’t until he found himself at the front door of Brian’s house, that he paused and shuddered, resisted the urge to wrap an arm around himself. 

He knocked, instead. 

Mrs Lackey answered, and Neil braced himself for the worst. He didn’t know what the worst was, but he always expected it from her. The one who told his mom about his past without his permission. The one who disapproved of him and his ways. The one who probably thought that he’d turned her sweet son gay. The one who knew guns and criminals and the scum of the earth, which mean that she knew him, somehow, and could see into his soul. 

He stared down at the floor, at his shoes.

‘Was just wondering if Brian was home,’ he heard himself say. Christ, was that his voice? 

A pause which stretched into a longer silence, and Neil felt compelled to look up. Mrs Lackey’s face was calculating, but not cruel. She stepped back and waved an arm to indicate that he should come in. 

‘He’s up in his room.’

‘Uh,’ Neil shook his head, trying to clear it of cobwebs. ‘Thanks.’

He took a step towards the staircase, but Mrs Lackey stopped him with a hand on his arm. It reminded him of his own mom, trying to stop him from leaving, asking him if it had really happened. 

‘You alright, Neil?’ she asked, her voice clipped but concerned. Neil met her eyes again, shocked. He was sure that if she knew the true extent of his involvement in Brian’s abuse, if she knew that he’d recruited him, that he’d brought him back and told him that it would be fun and that he’d like it, he’d be shot in the head and dumped in some backwater river where he’d never be found again. He couldn’t say anything to her that didn’t feel like a lie. So he just stared at her, confused and too tired unable to even be angry that she’d told his mom, even though he knew he should be furious. 

Eventually, she sighed. 

‘You don’t talk much, do you?’ she said, and then shrugged. ‘He’s up in his room.’ 

Neil took that as the dismissal it was, and took the steps one at a time, hand clinging to the banister. He heard Mrs Lackey disappear into the kitchen, and then further out into the house, followed by the sound of a washing machine being loaded. His own tired steps creaked in his ears, and all at once he felt over a hundred years old, ancient and withered and worn. 

He didn’t bother knocking at Brian’s door, and the doorknob turned easily. 

‘Neil?’ Brian said, and Neil stared at him, lacking language. Brian got up from his swivel chair and closed the book he was studying. A moment of eye contact between them, when Brian read god knew what from his eyes, and then Brian was starting forwards and drawing him manually into the chair. 

‘I think you should sit down,’ Brian said, sitting opposite on the edge of his bed. 

Neil opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came. He swung back and forth a little on the chair, his hands limp in his lap, sweat cooling on his back and neck, throughout his scalp. He hadn’t thought this through. He hadn’t thought anything through for at least a couple of weeks. When he thought of his mom, her reaction to his childhood reality, his fingers start to twitch and he pushed the ball of his right foot up and down rapidly, his leg bounced agitated on the floor. 

He wanted tell Brian about picking up at the park, about the guy, about the panic, the running, but he thought Brian would be disappointed in him. He hated that he even gave a shit. 

‘What is it?’ Brian said finally, and Neil dug his hands into his knees. That itchy, crazy feeling that he’d hoped to sate with some stranger hadn’t disappeared at all. It stuck needles into him from the inside. It was claws and little teeth that gnawed relentlessly at his nerves. He grit his teeth, stared at the door like he could run out of it, run away again. 

‘I picked up,’ Neil said. 

Brian’s head tilted, his eyes narrowed, like he didn’t understand the reference. 

‘Like the old days. I picked up,’ he said, again.

The recognition came not with a shocked gasp, or anything so blatant, but with a widening of the eyes, a raising of eyebrows. Brian didn’t look away, didn’t look anything other than curious, though it was hard to tell what he was thinking at times like these. It occurred to Neil in a flash, that Brian could be pretty vague with his emotions, his expressions, someone who seemed like an open book when they first met could be caged whenever he wanted.

‘Why?’ Brian said, quiet.

Neil stared down at his hands, picked at his jeans.

‘I just wanted to not think about all this shit anymore.’ 

‘How could _that_ make you not think about it?’ 

‘I dunno, it just does. Or it did. We didn’t even, I mean, I couldn’t fucking go through with it, could I? I ran away. I came here. Pathetic as shit.’ 

Neil would be damned before he said another thing. Those few short sentences made him feel like he’d pulled the arteries out of his own body. He glared at Brian, mad at everything, exhausted and yet filled with a relentless, restless energy that turned the world jagged and brittle. 

When Brian stood up, Neil tensed, worried that he was about to be thrown out. Worried that what he had to offer wasn’t good enough. He was not the best company these days, and that was saying something, because it was not like he had ever cared to be the best company anyway. But when he knew he was being an asshole, he was probably unbearable by everyone else’s standards. 

But Brian stepped forward until his bare feet nearly touched Neil’s shoes. He reached forward and braced his arms on the armrests of the swivel chair, hemming Neil into the chair, taking away any sense of personal space. This close he could smell a faint hint of aftershave, of freshly washed clothing, he could smell Brian’s breath, the tang of orange, or some other citrus fruit. 

When Brian’s head moved forwards towards his, he could have sworn that he was about to be kissed, a certainty that was surprising and cut into all of his thoughts and made his restlessness turn silent. But instead, Brian pressed his forehead against Neil’s. It was cool where his was hot, dry where his was clammy. Neil shifted, swallowed. This was a whole other level of physicality, this was _intimate._

Neil didn’t know where to look, so he closed his eyes. He wanted to say ‘this isn’t like you,’ but Brian’s comfort with touching had always been shocking to him. Where his touch phobia repelled the act of ‘being touched,’ it never extended as far as ‘touching others.’ Brian could be surprisingly forthright when he wanted to be. This was completely out of Neil’s wheelhouse, he had no idea what was going to happen. 

‘I thought you were going to kiss me,’ he said, dumbly. 

‘Wh-what I don’t understand is how something like this could distract you from something like what we went through, what your mom found out,’ Brian said, like Neil hadn’t said anything at all. This close, Brian’s voice was sound and vibration and hot breath and what Neil was now almost certain was an orange. Brian was such a damned goody-two-shoes, eating oranges as a snack. He wanted to get up and start a fight, and instead he let himself be gently imprisoned by the arms on either side of him, the forehead against his. 

‘How could it help?’ Brian said to himself, pensive and curious all at once. He moved his head back once, quickly, to remove his glasses, and before Neil could really react, the forehead was back, bridge of their noses touching, a closeness that was beyond anything Neil thought he may have ever experienced in his life. He realised that his breathing was coming faster, he felt like he couldn’t move, and that – if he thought about it – maybe he didn’t want to.

‘Your mom would probably shoot me if she found us like this.’ 

Brian smiled, Neil felt it. 

‘She’s more progressive than you’d think. She watched alien shows with me when I was a kid, and she promised to give me alone time whenever you came over. No longer than an hour, which, which was an embarrassing dinner conversation. Especially as,’ Brian laughed softly, ‘it kinda came out of nowhere. And she started it, too.’ 

‘I’m a fag. She hates me.’ 

‘I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to talk about her right now,’ Brian said, low. 

Brian pushed the chair back until it bumped into the table, and then lifted one of his hands and placed it on Neil’s chest. The palm was warm and sure. Neil’s breath stuttered in his throat, his heart thudded, and his arms shifted when Brian started to stretch his fingers around his ribs, began to stroke at his torso. Slow, sure movements.

‘This isn’t like you,’ Neil managed, around the feeling of his skin heating up from the inside, warmth blooming where Brian’s hand trailed. 

‘Remember, ages ago, a-ages ago, you were in a, a bad mood, and told me you weren’t a good guy, and I said I wasn’t either? I said, sometimes I want to do things to you, to see how you’ll react. That you’re a puzzle I can’t figure out?’ 

‘I remember that,’ Neil breathed, as the hand on his ribs crept down, down, until fingertips touched the skin of his belly and then stroked back up underneath his shirt. Skin to skin, and this close to Brian, and his brain was short-circuiting. ‘That was the day you, that was the first time you were able to blow your load.’ 

‘You think I’m some angel, it’s not like I’ve ever given you a reason to think that’s true, just because I’m good at school and wear conservative clothes. I hate my Dad. I hate my life. I hate the way you treat me. I hate myself,’ Brian swallowed twice before he could go on, ‘I hate that you use something that’s hurt you over and over again, to fix something that you can’t fix like that. It makes me...’ he trailed off, unable to finish, watching his own hand underneath Neil’s shirt, splaying fingers along ribs and pressing hard.

It suddenly occurred to Neil that Brian was mad at him. Not just disappointed, but angry. 

‘How does this help?’ Brian continued, brushing blunt fingertips over a nipple and pausing when Neil cleared his throat and gripped at the armrest that Brian’s roaming hand had left free. ‘Because it’s never helped before. Because you’re always the one who feels weird after, the one who freaks out _after._ Remember?’ 

He wanted to tell Brian to shut up, to fucking shut up already, because he’s getting hard, because the itchy crazy feeling is spreading inside of him with thorny blood cells, and he’s becoming dizzy with it. That same thrill he felt a long time ago that second time with Brian, and here it was again, with Brian antagonising him and apparently curious to see what sort of puzzle Neil was. 

When Brian placed a hand on Neil’s crotch, directly over his half-hard dick, he jerked and tried to ignore the sound he made. Brian’s breath was so close, that when he tried to find oxygen, he only swallowed a long mouthful of Brian’s exhalations. 

‘You told me you wished you’d never met me,’ Brian said, melancholy in his tone. ‘But now you’re here.’ 

Neil’s head started to tilt back and Brian increased the pressure of his forehead against Neil’s, stopped him from tilting back completely. Stopped him from avoiding the contact. Neil’s free hand fisted hard at the armrest again as Brian’s hand ground against him through his fly, through all that denim. He was completely surrounded, felt unusually accountable. 

‘I made a mistake,’ Neil rasped. ‘My life is a string of fuck ups, I didn’t mean to say-’ 

‘Shh,’ Brian said, and with one hand, flipped open the button and pulled down the zip with a show of dexterity that he hadn’t expected. And it was awkward that he couldn’t get his jeans off, and Brian didn’t seem to care, because his fingers gripped the base of him beneath boxers like he did this all the time. It was too tight, too cramped, and yet the feeling of Brian’s fingers around him made sparks fly, his lungs ache. Neil’s voice kept catching on his exhales, blood beat in pulses behind his eyes, all he could see was red, he could smell oranges, he felt stubble against his cheek when Brian tilted his head to look down, and then the stubble disappeared and they were forehead to forehead again. A part of him wanted to run away, a part of him wanted to see how this would play out, and that part of him was winning, that part of him thrust hips up to meet Brian’s movements.

‘Should I stop? Is this helping?’ 

‘Fuck knows,’ Neil gasped, reaching forwards with the fingers that had been digging into the armrest and finding Brian’s shirt. ‘Don’t, don’t stop.’   
‘I don’t want to,’ Brian said, hot and breathless, and Neil felt dazed with lust, his fingers curled tight into Brian’s shirt and wouldn’t let go. 

It should have been weird, being close, Brian’s presence pressing into his, standing over him, forehead against forehead. And in some ways, it was too much, but what Neil mostly felt was _Brian,_ the truths of him, the way he refused his stereotypes and offered something honest and raw even now. It overwhelmed him, left him harder than a handjob normally would, and they weren’t usually something he’d pass up anyway. He knew Brian was turned on, he could hear it in the changes in his breathing, the changes reflected in his own. 

Brian offered a simple, workmanlike rhythm, it was fast and tight and steady. It seemed too easy that something like that could light fires inside of him, charge his brain, his gut, his balls. He began to make short noises on his exhales, felt light-headed with the amount of Brian’s breath he was inhaling. He moaned unexpectedly, unable to hold it in. 

‘Fuck,’ he breathed, ‘fuck, I’m close, I’m-’

He expected an acknowledgement, words, something, but got nothing except that steady rhythm, the pressure against his nose and forehead, the arm alongside his, pressing against him, holding him in. He thought he needed more, wanted more, but Brian’s presence was enough. A few seconds later and he was arching hard enough in the chair that he thought he’d break it, and certainly tip over if the chair hadn’t been pushed against the table. 

He came hard, fire and the textures of Brian consuming him as his restless energy released all at once. He gasped against Brian’s mouth, lips brushing in a kiss that was accidental and undeliberate, and Brian was breathing hard in return. Neil felt as though he combusted into dust and smoke, dispersing into nothingness. The exhaustion of it all laced together and he went limp in the chair as Brian withdrew his hand and reached over to where the tissue box was and wiped his hand off. Neil looked down at the extra tissues Brian offered him and couldn’t compute what to do with them. 

After a beat, Brian cleaned Neil up himself, quick and perfunctory and a little awkward. Neil blinked when he felt fingers move through his hair, fingernails lightly scratching at the back of his neck.

‘Come on,’ Brian said, soft and hoarse, and Neil remembered that Brian hadn’t gotten off, hadn’t come, and he turned sideways and reached for Brian’s jeans automatically. 

‘Uh, no, no, that’s not what I meant,’ Brian said, evading the hands. And Neil’s brow furrowed, he swallowed. What did he mean then? Brian had been turned on hadn’t he? And even now, Neil saw that he was still at least half-hard in his pants.

He opened his mouth to say something but had to close it again. In the empty space within him, a loss made itself known. A hollowness in his heart. He swallowed and pressed his hand to his chest, where Brian had pressed his palm before. 

‘I don’t know what’s wrong,’ Neil said, hoarse.

‘Come on,’ Brian said, taking his other hand and pulling him towards the bed. ‘Come lie down. Come on.’ 

‘This never used to happen.’ 

‘I know,’ Brian said, he like he did know, though he couldn’t possibly. And besides, it did used to happen before Brian, after fucking or being fucked, just not quite in the same way. Before the loss could set in, there was always the thrill of the conquest, the win, of knowing that he’d landed yet another score and would do so again. Instead, now, just loss gnawing away at him. He had no idea what was missing, or if he could find it again, or if he even wanted it back. 

Woodenly, he arranged himself on the bed, facing away from Brian, facing the door. Brian lay next to him, behind him, a heated hand on his shoulder. 

‘Why didn’t you let me return the favour?’ Neil said, knowing Brian must have blue balls by now, knowing that he’d wanted just like Neil had wanted. 

‘Uh, well, I thought about it. But it didn’t seem right.’ 

‘But you wanted to,’ Neil said, confused, closing his eyes.

‘You don’t feel it?’ Brian whispered, ‘it’s like the pressure in the atmosphere dropping before a big storm. All around us. Your storm hit already, and you’re in the middle of it.’ Brian’s hand on his shoulder became an arm snaking under his arm and then wrapping firm around his torso. Neil realised with an abrupt shock that he was being _held._ And a second later, he realised how much he didn’t want it to stop. 

Brian was right, he was in the middle of some fucking great storm, and he _could_ feel it. He curled his legs up to his torso and one of his hands found Brian’s against his chest. He refused to think of it as holding hands. He refused to think of it as sentiment. 

But he knew he was losing a battle with himself. 

‘You could just talk to her, your mom,’ Brian said, ‘it might go better than you think.’ 

Neil knew he was wrong. He knew it down to the very tips of his toes. His Mom built so much of her value in life up on two things: being a good lay, being a good Mom. She believed she made it work no matter what. ‘It’s you ‘n’ me against the whole damn world, right kiddo?’ It was single mother and son in solidarity. It was not being taken advantage of by others, knowing how to rort the system, seeing a asshole from a mile off and knowing how to deal with it. And it was Neil, not telling his Mom, because he so desperately wanted Coach in his life, so desperately _wanted_ something more than what he was getting. It was Neil keeping this secret. 

And his Mom never really grew up, on the inside she was still a lost fifteen year old, easily betrayed. She found it easier to hang out with people in their late teens / early twenties, than she did with women and men her own age. And in the world of youth, Neil had betrayed her with his secret, with his terrible secret.

‘I can’t,’ he whispered, ‘I _can’t,_ I can’t, I-’

He began to shake, and Brian wrapped his whole body around Neil’s, weighing him down and no longer remotely hard at all. He couldn’t tell his Mom that she hadn’t failed him, but that he’d failed her. That he hadn’t wanted her to know. That sometimes people out there just wanted to fuck kids so much that they could get away with it. He couldn’t tell his Mom that it was okay or that he’d wanted it or that for the longest time he hadn’t minded and the worst part was when Coach went away. All at once he went from having almost nothing to say his entire life, to having too many sentences clogged up in his throat. 

He stared wide-eyed, in horror, at the back of Brian’s closed door. He wasn’t remotely tired now. Fear beat a tattoo all the way up and down his spine, and he couldn’t stop shaking no matter how much he tried.


	14. Chapter 14

As much as he wanted it to stop, life resisted halting in the face of all he was dealing with, and it continued apace. Work shifts, movie nights with Eric and sometimes Brian, studiously avoiding his Mom, paychecks accumulating in his account because he had no hobbies and he had no serious debts and had no idea what to do with _money._ Outside of drugs and drinking and food, what did one do with their money? His life was an impoverished field, and he hardly knew where to begin to change it. 

He had nightmares far too regularly and intensely for it to be normal or healthy, and at the end of the night when he avoided falling asleep for longer than usual, he had started mentally telling himself to get his shit together, dammit, because he needed to _sleep._ He’d taken to reading Eric’s textbooks on fashion and design principles, and even though he didn’t understand some of the jargon, that was sort of the point. The words were a black and white vista of boredom and helped him to hit a mental wall where he could actually close his eyes and drift off. 

It had the side effect that he became more conversant with Eric’s passion in life; fashion, and began to give half a shit about clothing and design principles. Eric knew Neil well enough to know that Neil wasn’t really showing ‘an interest’ in Eric’s interests, but he seemed happy enough to reap the benefits of Neil’s sleepless, disturbed nights.

One Friday morning over a sugar-heavy breakfast, Eric said: 

‘So, have you talked to her yet?’ 

Neil grimaced. Eric nodded sagely, like this was a complex response. 

‘Well, _I’ve_ talked to her. Because apparently we are best friends or something. Not that I mind. Your mom is cool.’

‘At least she’s got you as some kind of surrogate son who isn’t completely fucked up,’ Neil muttered at his cereal bowl. 

Eric sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which was pre-product and extremely fluffy. Then he placed his elbow on the table and rested his chin in the palm of his hand and scrutinised Neil. 

‘Do you think you should talk to her?’ 

Neil made an expression which eloquently said both ‘fuck no’ and ‘fuck off,’ and Eric laughed at him, never taking anything personally. It was like his experiences had given him some magical coating of Teflon. Insults and aggression and even outright meanness just slid off him. It wasn’t like Eric didn’t get upset, or feel hurt, it was just that he didn’t take the bait in the moment. 

The conversation trailed off into Eric talking about a new crush he had at school, and Neil sometimes felt like Eric just bounced around, directing his affection everywhere, hoping that it would just finally land on someone as willing to be loved as he was willing to love them.

*

Another conversation with Eric, while Eric weeded the garden and Neil smoked while sitting on the grass.

‘You know he’s going, don’t you?’ 

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, half the time,’ Neil said, tired of picking up conversations halfway through. 

Eric threw down a dandelion with some satisfaction into the pile and huffed out a breath.

‘Brian. He’s going to see that, that man, from your mutual past. You know. He’s going to go to a _prison_ , and he’s going to sit there, and face that guy, who – let’s face it, and I do mean this in the nicest possible way – left you both without a full deck of playing cards.’

Neil stared. 

‘He...uh, didn’t tell you?’ 

‘No,’ Neil said, ‘I mean, he told me he was _thinking_ about it. A while ago.’ 

‘No, he’s going. He’s going this coming weekend.’ 

‘You’re fucking kidding me. Are you fucking serious?’ Neil stood up and then sat down again because he didn’t have anything to do in the moment to express his anger. He reached for one of the pulled up weeds and shredded it angrily. Sticky sap got over his fingers and he stubbed out his cigarette so he could keep shredding. 

‘He’s a fucking idiot,’ Neil added, for good measure.

It bothered him that Brian wanted to do this. He suspected it was because he _knew_ what a self-destructive act looked like. He’d lived them all his life and he could see them from a mile away. Where Neil’s life was one big act of self-destruction, Brian’s was generally one of rebuilding. But this just seemed to tread some kind of line where it _looked_ like it was the right thing to do, but couldn’t possibly, ever, be the right thing to do. 

‘He was way more fucked up by it all than I was,’ Neil added.

‘Well, we’ll leave that nest of snakes for another day. But no, I sort of agree with you, he was completely fucked up by it all. I’ve tried talking to him about it, he sometimes listens to me, but I didn’t want to tell him _not_ to go. I just told him I was worried. He thinks it will bring him some sort of closure.’ 

‘It won’t,’ Neil said. ‘Life doesn’t work like that. It’s not that fuckin’ easy.’

‘You speak the truth, my friend,’ Eric said softly, picking up one of the pulled weeds and contemplating it. ‘I’ve never understood why a perfectly healthy, indestructible plant was the unwanted one, and the ones that need watering and looking after are the ones we want. I mean look, it didn’t do anything wrong.’

‘Eric, are you feeling sorry for a goddamned _plant?_ ’ 

‘I attach easily. My heart is easily broken,’ Eric said with a soft, self-deprecating smile. 

Neil had come to enjoy these discussions with Eric. The kid was smart and gentle, but in a way that no longer earned the full measure of Neil’s condescension. In the time since he had returned from New York, he had come to find a place in his life for gentleness, certainly the honest, authentic gentleness that Eric offered. It meant unexpected conversations which reminded him of the times he bonded with Wendy, it made him realise that maybe Wendy wasn’t the ‘only one who would ever get him.’ That, maybe, friendship was actually something that might be possible with other people too. 

Then his mind returned to the subject at hand.

‘He hasn’t told me. He doesn’t want to talk to me about it. But fuck that, the little shit wouldn’t let up on me if I decided to do something so stupid.’ 

‘You...don’t want to see him?’ 

‘Brian?’ Neil clarified.

‘No, I mean, you don’t want to go to the jail and see him too? The guy?’ 

‘ _No._ ’ If there was one thing he knew, it was that. He wasn’t interested in spoiling the memories, regardless of how off-colour they now appeared to him anyway. He wasn’t interested in the false, pop-psych concept of closure which was being bandied about on all the daytime talk-shows, he wasn’t interested in seeing Coach, _old_ and wrinkled and less hot and without the golden gloss of a child’s eyes, and more than that, he just didn’t want to see him in a jail. See him living in the place that proved that all of society thought he had done something wrong. See him living in a place that proved that Neil might, _might_ have a flawed perspective on it all. 

‘I’m going to call him,’ Neil said, getting up and dropping pieces of leaf and stem and root. He wiped sticky hands on his jeans. It felt like half-dried come stuck to his fingers. It was, fleetingly, a great deal like the old days.

‘He’s not home. He’ll be back later this afternoon.’

‘I’m going to call him then,’ Neil said, daring Eric to tell him not to. 

‘I think you should. I didn’t bring it up so that you’d leave it alone. I think he needs to hear someone else’s perspective on the subject, personally. And I think maybe you’re actually the best one to comment on the subject for a change.’ Eric continued weeding after that, and Neil once more sank down to the ground, gravity compelling him to lay his spine against the grass and stare up at the blue morning sky. They were heading into the warmer months now, and he felt the sun itching at his skin, reminding him of days and days of park-trawling and getting laid. 

He sighed, he couldn’t tell if he felt disgust or contempt or even peace that his life was just so fucking _domestic_ now. 

*

Brian sounded happy to hear from him on the phone. He’d responded warmly once his mom had gotten him, and Neil grimaced, because he was _mad_ , and he didn’t want pleasantries and oh, how are you, I’m good, how are you. He wasn’t _interested._

‘Eric tells me you’re going to see Coach,’ Neil said, no preamble. 

Brian’s breath hitched, even over the phone Neil could hear it. Brian was already _stressed._

‘Want me to say it again? Coach. You are going to see _Coach._ You are going to a jail, to see the dude who you just hear the _voice_ of, and you freak out. Because, correct me if I’m wrong and shit, but what happened the last time you heard his voice? On that tape? Hm? You _lost your shit._ ’ 

‘Uh,’ Brian said, voice shaky. 

‘You didn’t tell me because you know you’re making the wrong decision, didn’t you?’ 

‘You don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not the wrong decision. I’m doing the right thing.’ Brian found his stubbornness and anchored into it. His voice went from shaky and unsure to strong and firm. Give Brian a mission, and he’d find reserves of bravery and thick-headedness that the average person didn’t have in abundance. Neil was furious. If he was there in person, he’d be tempted to punch a wall. 

‘Why are you doing this?’ Neil said, staring blankly at the wall calendar and picking at his jeans in frustration. 

‘I, uh, I just...I just want to tell him that he, that he hurt me. I want him to know that there are consequences for what he did.’

‘Jail is a consequence for what he did,’ Neil bit out. ‘I mean Jesus Christ, Brian, the last time you heard his voice, your nose basically imploded, you collapsed, you stole from me, you ran away, I’m pretty sure you’re not ready to see this guy in person.’ 

‘M-maybe you’re just jealous,’ Brian breathed.

Fucking _what?_ Neil pulled the receiver away from his ear and glared at it for a second, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. 

‘I’m fucking what?’ Neil breathed back, the molars in the back of his jaw grinding down hard. 

‘N-nothing,’ Brian backtracked quickly. 

‘No, say it again. Tell me that I’m jealous of you about to make a terrible goddamned decision. If I wanted to see him again, I _would_ have found a way to do it. The only reason you’re acting like this is that you know I’m right.’

‘I’m doing it,’ Brian said, ‘I’m doing this, and you can’t stop me. I need to do this. You don’t understand. You could be more supportive. Except that you’re not really...never mind.’ 

Neil’s palm was sweaty where it was squeezing the life out of the phone. 

‘Just please, don’t try and stop me. I need to do this,’ Brian said again, his voice shaky and unsure again. ‘Please.’ 

‘Don’t do that,’ Neil said, unable to stand the quiet desperation in his voice, the pleading. 

‘ _Please,_ ’ Brian said, ‘just please, be okay about it.’ 

‘I _can’t_ be okay about it! Shit, I can’t remember the last time I was less fucking okay about something!’ And then he thought back to his mom confronting him about his past and he realised that actually, he hadn’t been fucking okay about a lot of things for a long time. ‘I want,’ Neil paused, ‘I want to come over. Tonight.’

‘No,’ Brian said. ‘I don’t want you to. I have to do this on my own. I don’t want to see you this week.’ 

Neil closed his eyes, and sighed. Is this how Wendy felt, _all the fucking time?_ Dealing with some wildcard making some dumbass, stupid as shit decision? What would Wendy do? She would let him, and then say some fancy version of ‘I told you so’ when it all went to hell. She would let him though, that’s what she’d do. And when Neil thought back, he appreciated that. He appreciated being allowed to make his own stupid decisions on his own terms.

‘Okay,’ Neil said, the words tasting like battery acid in the back of his throat. ‘Fine. Go. You stubborn fucking piece of shit.’ 

Brian laughed quietly, sadly, breath gusting into the phone. 

‘You’re worried about me. You insult people when you’re worried about them.’ 

‘I’m mad as hell.’

‘And worried about me.’ 

‘You’re not like me,’ Neil said, quietly, ‘you get affected by things in different ways. You want to bleed in front of that man? Show him exactly how he affected you? You want some prison guards picking you up after you’ve fallen down? Some strange men touching you because you fell in front of another man who touched you? Christ, your Mom isn’t going to be there, is she?’ 

‘N-no,’ Brian said, shaky again, affected by what Neil was saying, ‘no, I’m doing it on my own. She organised it, but I’m doing it on my own. I’m driving out on Saturday morning, I’ll come back Sunday afternoon. It’s a fair drive. It’s Oklahoma State Penitentiary.’ 

‘That’s a maximum security dive. There’s death row prisoners there,’ Neil said, shocked. 

‘Well, h-he’s not on deathrow. He’s a s-sex offender. He’s in a different, I mean, I know it’s...he’s not a maximum...’ Brian trailed off, unsure what to say.

Neil could hardly imagine it. This blonde-haired, glasses-wearing geek, walking into somewhere like Oklahoma State Pen, surrounded by all of _that_ , and he swallowed. He’d said fine hadn’t he? He couldn’t begin to wrap his mind around it. It just seemed like a great bomb about to go off.

‘I want to come with you. I don’t want to see _him._ But I want to come with you. I can get the weekend off.’ 

There was a pause, Brian seriously considering the offer. And then Brian exhaled slowly and Neil already knew what he was going to say.

‘I just have to do this on my own. I’m sorry. I can tell you’re upset.’ 

‘Yeah, no shit, Brian.’

‘I’m sorry. I just, it’s something I have to do.’

The guy was definitely on a mission, that was for sure. 

‘Call me,’ Neil said, tired and suddenly wanting to lie down and sleep for a long, long time. 

‘What do you mean?’ 

‘I mean call me, if you need anything. You’ve got my work number, and I’ll be there or here pretty much.’

‘It’ll be okay, Neil,’ Brian said, a smile back in his voice. ‘Okay?’

‘Yeah, whatever.’

‘I’m going to hang up now. But, you know, I’ll call when I get back and we’ll watch a movie or something? Just hang out? Okay?’ 

‘Yeah,’ Neil said, eyes closed and finding it hard to pull air into his lungs. He wasn’t cut out to be a Wendy. He wasn’t supposed to be a satellite. He wasn’t supposed to orbit _anyone._ He wasn’t made for that kind of friendship, and he found it relentlessly exhausting. 

Brian hung up the phone and Neil did the same, and then knocked one of Eric’s little plastic Smurfs over with his index finger. 

He could see no way in which this would end well.

*

Needing something to do, something to keep his mind off the knowledge that Brian was driving towards what felt like ‘impending doom,’ Neil decided to match him for stupidity and called his mom to organise a catch up and a chat on the same weekend. She sounded so pathetically grateful on the phone that Neil almost hung up there and then and hot-tailed it out of the state himself. He just didn’t know if he could do this, but it was organised and he would follow through because he was tired of Eric asking whether he was going to talk to her. 

On Saturday afternoon they met at a small, new cafe that Neil had heard good things about. He brought them both ice cream sundaes and realised after his first bite that they probably should’ve just gone to Dairy Queen. It would’ve tasted the same, and it would’ve cost a great deal less. 

They talked first about work, reassuring each other that everything was going fine. And then they talked briefly about Eric (also fine), and then Eric’s school, and then about how expensive cafes were. It was the most awkward conversation he’d ever had with his mom, and whole worlds of silence fell between almost all of their sentences. Nothing felt organic or safe. 

The ice cream tasted wooden and fake. After a moment he focused on his chocolate milkshake instead. So, the problem wasn’t with the food then, it was him. Nothing tasted right. 

‘Baby, can you just tell me why you didn’t tell me?’ she implored, suddenly. 

And what to say to that? Neil had no idea. He wracked his brain, but nothing seemed good enough, adequate to such a huge question. And then he remembered what Brian had told his own mom, and decided to plagiarise from that conversation as it had been related to him instead.

‘I didn’t want you to worry,’ he lied, shovelling ice cream into his mouth like that might make what he’d said more real. He expected her to see straight through it, to know he wasn’t the kind of person who cared – generally – about worrying others. He swallowed and added: ‘because, y’know, I love you,’ for good measure.

That seemed even _less_ convincing. 

But, to his surprise (and disappointment) she bought it. She looked relieved and grief-struck and a hundred other things that he couldn’t begin to sort out. She even reached across the table and placed her hand over his. 

‘I’ve tried my hardest to be a good mother but it’s been hard, you know, having to work as hard as I did, and looking for a man who could provide for us and spectacularly failing in that department, boy did I ever,’ the next thing Neil knew, she was launching into a huge monologue about how she loves him too and that he didn’t need to hide the truth from her and that she just wants to be there for him and she just wanted to be a more active part of his life now because-

At that point, Neil felt suffocated.

‘Mom, look...it can’t be like that,’ he said, grimacing. He pushed the milkshake and the sundae back, both half-finished. 

Her mouth closed audibly, teeth clicking shut. She was shocked, fingers curling against the table. 

‘You’re mad at me,’ she said, like a small child, in a small voice.

‘No, _no,_ ’ Neil said, mad at her for putting him in this position, mad at the conversation. ‘I’m not mad, I’m just...’ 

When did he become someone who had conversations like this? He ground his teeth together and took a deep breath. It had the opposite effect of relaxing him, but he stayed, he stayed because he’d promised himself he’d do this, even though it wasn’t going the way he wanted it to go, the way he imagined she’d wanted it to go. 

‘Mom, I know you care, I know you love me, but it’s, this is going to take time. I don’t _talk_ about it. I don’t to be your _baby_ again. You can’t cradle me through this, or whatever you’re thinking, I need to get through this my own way.’

‘But, Neil, you might feel better if you just talked about it. Ask Eric, I can be a real good listener if that’s what-’

‘I am not a talker,’ Neil said, angry that he had to be a _talker_ to even say that to her in the first place. ‘We’ll work it out, but you need to follow my lead in this, okay?’ 

For one horrifying second, she looked like she was going to cry again, eyes swimming with wetness and smile-lines tight around her mouth. But, after a taut, breathless moment, she visibly steeled herself and took a deep, slow inhale, followed by a long, silent exhale. She smiled bravely at him, and in that second, Neil loved her with renewed vigour. But the love spread inside him like a bruise, sore and aching.

She changed the subject and they returned to the subject of Eric and what he was like to share a house with. It seemed no easier than any of the conversation they’d made initially, and Neil struggled through it, wondering when he could reasonably make his escape. 

After she finished her drink and had pushed back her sundae, he said that he should probably head off.

‘Just, just don’t be a stranger, okay?’ 

He smiled at her, hugged her tight. She smelled of familiar perfume, of the haven she’d always thought she’d been but had never truly been. All this time he felt he’d been getting one over on his mom, and now they were both paying for it. He held on for a few seconds longer than usual, but even that was a lie, designed to help her feel more useful than he felt she was. The smile she offered him when he withdrew was the most genuine smile she’d given him since he’d arrived. 

‘Soon,’ he said, an affirmation he had as much for himself as he did for her. 

But as he walked to the car, he felt melancholic. He didn’t have the energy to sort it out. Brian and his razor insight would probably know immediately what the problem was, but Brian had taken that insight to see the person that had inverted his idea of a happy childhood. 

It seemed like a good night to wait for a call from Brian and lie face down, his head in the pillow, loud music shredding the walls around him. 

*

Neil got no chance to wallow. As soon as he walked in the front door, Eric was tapping his fingers impatiently on the kitchen counter.

‘Mrs Lackey called. Brian’s not doing so great. She gave us the hotel address. Apparently he doesn’t want her, he wants you. But I’m coming. I’m packed. I pulled out some stuff for you. Impromptu roadtrip?’ 

Neil looked at the clock and sighed. 

‘Fucking hell. It’s gonna take like six hours to get there. We won’t be there until past midnight.’

‘I don’t think Mrs Lackey cares _when_ we get there, as long as we get there. I went out and gassed up the car, so we’ve got a full tank.’ 

And just like that, Neil’s tether snapped. He kicked the armchair hard, and it tilted alarmingly before settling back to its position with a heavy thud.

‘That fucking little shit. I _knew_ this would happen!’ 

He stormed into his room and saw that all he really needed to do was shove all the stuff Eric had pulled out into a backpack. A change of clothes, a toothbrush, soap, a towel, there wasn’t much, but it would do. He pulled some cash out of his bottom bedside cabinet drawer and shoved it into his wallet. 

When it was all packed, he threw the backpack as hard as he could against the hallway door. And then he marched after it to pick it up again and instead found himself with his forehead against the cool wall, breathing hard, panic spreading through his chest. 

What had happened? What was happening now? What had motivated Brian, stubborn-as-fuck Brian, to actually call his _mom_ and put in a request for the one person he had reassured over and over again? He sure as shit wouldn’t have wanted Neil to come, he wouldn’t have put in the call unless he couldn’t see any other way out of his situation, Neil _knew_ that about him. He imagined all sorts of horrible things, and they left him tasting bile and sour ice cream and beyond tired. In that instant, Coach was two different people. Golden god, terrible monster, both and unable to be reconciled. 

‘I won’t be able to drive the whole way,’ he said, to the hallway wall. 

‘My friend,’ Eric walked up to him and picked up the pack, ‘you’re not even driving most of the way. I’ve got that covered, already plotted it all out.’ 

‘I am going to strangle him,’ Neil said, with less fervour than he felt roiling inside. All his surety that he would say things like ‘I told you so,’ disappeared. ‘Did his mom say anything else?’ 

‘To call us once everything was sorted, before we came back.’ 

‘I’ve got cash. If we need to stay,’ Neil added. 

Eric shouldered his own bag and Neil’s and threw them into the backseat of the car. Neil buckled himself in and stared out of the windscreen at the house itself, wondering all the while. His thoughts were scattershot, he was going to have to sleep in the car if he was going to be any use to anyone else. After a moment he unbuckled himself, got in the backseat himself, and lay his head down on the backpacks. 

When Eric got in, he paused before starting the engine, looked up at the rearview mirror. 

‘I have to ask you, but, will you explain it to me? All of this? Because you know me, and I’m a patient guy, and you do know that, and I’ve never, ever pressed either of you. I never would. Brian’s told me a little, in pieces, and I’ve, I’ve listened to some of that tape, but Neil...’ Eric trailed off and maintained earnest eye contact. Neil found he couldn’t look away, tired though he was. He could feel his heart beating. His entire life was a fucking mess. 

‘Neil, this is, I don’t know how I’m going to deal with this,’ Eric trailed off, and looked down, ashamed.

In the scrambled wreckage of Neil’s brain, he realised that he had no idea what it must be like for Eric, dealing with his two primary fucked up friends, actually _not knowing_ specifics or a timeline or anything other than the piecemeal story he’d pieced together for himself. Eric who had kept Neil’s secret from his own mom, and they were friends and everything. Eric who didn’t ask for much in return. Who was competent both with Brian’s strangeness and Neil’s meanness and nightmares and even the occasional flashback.

‘You’re a good guy, Preston,’ Neil said, with a crooked smile. Eric beamed back.

‘One of the very best. Now, will you tell me what’s going on?’ 

Neil nodded. 

‘I will, but I’m sleeping first.’ 

‘And then you can tell me how the meeting went with your mom?’ 

‘Don’t push it,’ Neil threatened half-heartedly, as he closed his eyes and yawned hugely. A moment later the engine kicked into gear, and they were on their way.


	15. Chapter 15

Neil didn’t wake up until they were past Wellington. He jerked up suddenly, and the nightmare faded in a series of shadows until he could focus on the road and the emptiness of the land around him. It was dark, it was easy to imagine all sorts of things; people dumping bodies out here, secret drug labs, whatever they needed to get by. 

Eric sighed from the front seat and Neil found his eyes in the rear-view mirror. 

‘Did you sleep well, darling?’ 

‘I guess,’ Neil said, and Eric shook his head briefly at the lie. 

‘A truck just sped past, it’s what woke you up. Those things go fast at night when there’s hardly anyone else around. Shook the whole car.’ 

‘Do you need me to drive?’ Neil said, sitting up and licking at the inside of his mouth. It tasted feral. Eric threw him back a bottle of water and Neil sipped at it gratefully. He felt dazed and out of it, and took a few deep breaths to wake himself up. 

‘No, I’m going fine. I could probably do it all, actually. Besides, I like driving. I get control of the radio, and that’s all that matters.’

Neil laughed, soft, and then stretched out. His back and shoulders cracked and he shook his head. 

‘So you wanna know about what happened to us?’ Neil said, and Eric took a long, slow breath. 

‘I don’t know if ‘want’ is the right word, but I think it’s important.’

‘I don’t know what to tell you. It was easier with Brian, I just had to remind him.’ 

‘I could always ask you questions and then you could tell me to go screw myself if you don’t like them?’ Eric posed and Neil shrugged.

‘That’ll work.’

But the first question was too vague; ‘what happened?’ So Neil just started talking. He sketched over the details of the past, focusing instead on how he met Coach, on the mutual experiences he and Brian shared (in the least detail possible), he focused on the house and that summer. He talked about it without talking about the hard parts. Without talking about how advertisements now made him hyperventilate and that, late at night, an unspeakable horror dogged him that he was sure he hadn’t felt back in his past. Sometimes he wondered if his experience in Brighton had somehow transposed itself over his childhood encounters with Coach, and he didn’t know how to undo it again. 

By the time he trailed off, Eric was staring at him in the rear-view more than a person should if they wanted to be a road-worthy driver. With some difficulty he tore his eyes from Neil’s and looked at the road again.

‘I knew more than I thought,’ Eric said, ‘but it’s different hearing it from you. You’re the guy who hates all this kind of stuff and yet, it’s hard for you to talk about, isn’t it?’ His eyes flickered up again.

‘What the fuck do you think, Preston?’ Neil gritted out, kicking the back of his chair. 

‘You both reacted so differently,’ Eric murmured, and Neil nodded, glad to have someone else to focus on. 

‘Brian didn’t go in wanting it. He didn’t go in knowing there was anything like that in the world. I’d seen Playboys and fantasised and touched myself and I was a pervert. Brian’s – what’d you say you called him once? – the boy scout. And maybe that’s why Coach liked him, I don’t know. But after he was just so...’ erased, his mind supplied helpfully, the term he’d used in the presence of Brian all that time ago. He closed his eyes, remembering Brian’s rawness during that first disclosure between them, the shaking and the bleeding and the hitched breaths and the feel of his hair in his fingers and not ever wanting to move again because it was just too hard to do something as simple as stand up, walk out, after that encounter.

‘This trip was the dumbest fuckin’ thing he could’ve done,’ Neil said finally, scrubbing at the back of his own head anxiously. ‘I don’t know what it’ll do to him, what it’s done.’ 

‘Wendy likes him, you know. She thinks he’s good for you,’ Eric said, and Neil snorted. ‘I think you’re good for _him,_ ’ Eric added. 

‘Seriously,’ Neil said, flat; not a question but a dismissal.

Minutes stretched into ten, and then twenty, and Neil rested his face against the cool window and stared out at the distant lights, the fields he was sure were there in the blackness. They would be empty and huge, easy to get lost in. The cold of the window made his forehead ache and he didn’t care. 

‘I don’t want to say that it all explains a lot about you, but...it kinda does?’ Eric said hesitantly. 

‘What, that I’m a fag?’ 

‘No, no, not that,’ Eric laughed, like that was completely out of the question, ‘I mean, your recklessness. Your aggressive _joie de vivre._ ’ 

‘Whatever,’ Neil said, and pressed his forehead harder into the window, imagining that he could simply fall through the car and end up in the middle of the road, in the middle of all that empty dark, nothing but the road, some farms, the huge, huge sky. 

Eric subsided into silence and focused on the road again, and that was that.

*

There was a brief pit-stop at Tulsa to relieve themselves, which made no sense to Neil, considering the hours of emptiness where they simply could have pulled over on the side of the road and pissed into ditches instead. But Eric had principles about that sort of thing, and gassed the car up even though they probably would’ve made it otherwise, and picked up some pop and more water and whatever else took his fancy. Neil suspected the Mounds bar he picked up was for Brian, since Eric loathed coconut with every fibre of his being. 

He said he didn’t need Neil to drive after all, though Neil sat in the front after the several hours he’d spent in the backseat. Soon they were on the roads again, out of the busier city and back driving through a lot of empty space. It was a long night. 

‘So, I don’t know if you know this,’ Eric said softly, ‘because I used to think you knew mostly everything without me having to tell you. But a lot of kids have major crushes on adults. That go beyond...puppy love.’

‘What?’ Neil said, confused.

There was a pause where Eric was clearly thinking about how to delicately put his thoughts. 

‘I mean, you said earlier that you were a pervert where Brian wasn’t, because you had a crush. Or lusted after him. I mean, I totally had a crush on my teacher when I was like eight. And it was pretty extreme,’ Eric smiled at the memory, ‘Ache in the gut, tense chest, getting hard, everything. It’s how I knew I was gay. It’s when I first knew.

‘I’m not sure if everyone has crushes quite like that, but I did. But, Neil,’ Eric slowed the car down like he was thinking about pulling over, and then sped up again, ‘if my teacher had taken advantage of that, of me...’ 

He trailed off.

‘You would’ve hated it?’ Neil hazarded. 

‘No! I wouldn’t have known to hate it until it was too late. No, it would’ve been a lot like my crappy relationship with Adam. Remember? Love at first sight. And then a kind of terrible love. And we were both _adults,_ and I was _still,_ I mean, I’m _still_ all pathetic whimpering hurt little kid about it. And you were a _kid._ ’

Eric swallowed audibly and Neil stared fixedly out of the windscreen. He knew that kids had puppy love sometimes, that they crushed, but he had simply assumed that he was the only one who had ever felt lust that early. After all, it’s not like they made Playboy for kids. It’s not like they _should._ He was aberrant, wrong, abnormal, and he knew it, and he didn’t have a place in the world. He wasn’t like any of the other kids around him. And then Coach came along and made that okay. Sort of.

‘I’m not trying to change your mind or anything because, I know how you so do don’t that, but I know that he did the wrong thing.’ 

Neil couldn’t respond, couldn’t say anything, he was trying to make room for what Eric had just told him, and he couldn’t seem to fit it in his head without shuffling some other things around. 

Eric sighed.

‘I hope Brian is okay.’ 

‘I’m pretty sure he’s fucking not,’ Neil said, more harshly than he intended. He kicked the space under the glove and then slumped in his seat. He was almost certain that roadtrips were supposed to be more fun than this.

*

The hotel was halfway decent. Neil double-checked the room number and then turned to Eric.

‘I’m gonna see him first,’ he said. 

‘Do you want me to check us in too?’ Eric said, and Neil shook his head.

‘Just...give me a second.’ 

‘Good luck,’ Eric said and Neil smiled his lopsided ‘I don’t think so’ smile and closed the car door. Eric turned the engine off and relaxed back in his seat. His ability to veg in the car was a skill he’d developed over time, being the one who used to drive so often, take people out, wait to pick Neil up. Neil wished he could borrow the skill. His nerves were thrumming, he felt nauseous. He just wished he knew what to expect. 

He walked past ground floor rooms, looking at the numbers. He stopped outside number 9 and raised his hand to knock. He changed his mind and turned the doorknob instead. It gave, and Neil wondered if Brian had left the door unlocked on purpose, or if he’d just forgotten because he was too stressed, too upset. 

There was no way to prepare for what he imagined what might be coming, but he tensed in preparation anyway. 

He stepped into a room lit by the overhead light, the glare bright after hours of driving in semi-darkness. 

Brian was asleep on the bed, breathing soft and slow, chest rising and falling like nothing untoward had happened. Neil blinked at the sight, he hadn’t expected him to be asleep, to be _resting._ He’d expected panic and hyperventilating and everything else he’d come to associate with Brian’s expressions of fear.

Details filtered in slowly. First, the pile of blood-flecked and stained tissues at Brian’s side. And then the fact that he was still wearing all his clothes, his trainers, and had only half-tugged back the sheets and coverlet and hadn’t thought to pull them back over him again. He was still wearing his glasses, meaning he hadn’t properly fallen asleep, but had drifted off unexpectedly. He had smears of dried blood on his splayed hands and there was a stain of dried blood under his nose. His hair was in disarray, spiked without product, kinked into different angles.

Neil swallowed. The breakdown he’d imagined, had dreaded, had happened and Brian had had no one else to help him with it. He’d been alone for the worst of it. His fists clenched by his side. 

Eyes still roving, he saw a closed journal on the bedside cabinet, a pen next to it. Neil was tempted to open it, to read the hidden words within. He’d always respected the sanctity of Brian’s journals – mostly because he didn’t want to read the graphic details of what he’d experienced at the hands of Coach – but now he felt a prickling of curiousness. But then, he could always just _ask._

He sat on the corner of the bed, closed his eyes. A long day. He’d barely had time to think about the conversation he’d had with his mom earlier. It seemed like that had happened a week ago, but no, that had happened less than eight hours ago. And now he was here, in Oklahoma, and it occurred to him that Coach was here too, in the same state, waiting out however many years until they let him loose. He swallowed. 

Spontaneously, he reached forward and touched one of the blood-stains on Brian’s hand. And then he scooted up the bed and pressed his fingers into his hair, curled fingerpads along his scalp. It was rabbit soft as always, but his scalp was clammy. A sudden shock of recognition went through him. It reminded him so viscerally of that first night they met over Christmas, the second time since childhood, Brian with his head in Neil’s lap, scalp clammy and hair soft and shaking and twitching from the horror that was his entire life, his experiences, his memories that Neil had unlocked with words. Neil shivered and his hand kept moving automatically. 

Minutes drifted by, and he found himself feeling a strange softness in his heart. He had no word to describe it, the tender ache that spread sore tendrils through his chest, but it was bittersweet and he held onto it like it might be worth something. 

Brian’s eyes snapped open on an inhale, and Neil withdrew his hand. Brian blinked up at him, sniffed a couple of times, like he’d been sniffing blood back automatically before he’d fallen asleep. 

‘You’re here?’ Brian said, sleep muzzy and hoarse. Neil felt himself shrug.

‘Eric’s in the car.’

‘You’re both here?’ he said, sounding confused and younger than he was and vulnerable. Neil grimaced. 

‘Your nose was bleeding,’ he said, indicating the pile of tissues. There were at least 20. Neil realised that it looked like a lot of blood loss, even though it probably wasn’t. Maybe he needed a glass of orange juice or something. 

Brian laughed, bitterly. 

‘A lot, actually. It’s...’ he stopped and checked to see that his nose hadn’t started bleeding again. He touched both nostrils delicately, as though his nose was on some kind of hair trigger and he was afraid of setting it off. Still, even with that gentle touch, Brian’s fingertip had a wet patch of blood on it as he drew it away. He reached over blindly into the pile of tissues and wiped off his finger and sighed. 

‘You can say ‘I told you so,’ he said, soft and resigned. 

‘Fuck off,’ Neil said, stung. And then he realised that that was exactly what he’d intended to do all along, until now, this moment, when the ‘I told you so’ seemed like the least helpful thing he could have offered. 

Neil burned with questions. He wanted to ask what happened, what it was like, about _Coach,_ what was said, how the exchange went. He buried all the words under his tongue and that was probably for the best, since Brian seemed incapable of speaking. Neil knew all about that, and he sat in the silence and offered no pressure. 

After a few minutes he reached out and waited to see if Brian would do anything. Brian made a soft, welcoming noise and then reached up and moved Neil’s hand so that it was resting on the side of his head. Neil settled his hand back and let his fingers trace the warm skin behind his ear. He wanted to lie down alongside Brian, wanted to forget the rest of the world, wanted to fall asleep himself. It had been a long day, a long night, a long weekend, a long week. _A long fucking life,_ he found himself thinking. A strange despair curled through his limbs and made him feel heavy and wrong. He didn’t want to leave Brian’s side. He didn’t want to speak to Eric. He wanted to shut the rest of the world out for a little while. 

Brian closed his eyes and it looked like he was going to drift off again, but then he roused. 

‘You should probably go check on Eric or something,’ he murmured. 

‘We decided we weren’t gonna leave your car here to get towed, it’d cost tons. So we’re gonna book a room. I’ll get him to do it, and I got time off. We can stay a while. A few days. I’ll be back,’ he said, and got up reluctantly. They stared at each other for entirely too long, silent exchanges moving between them and Neil having no idea what they were saying to each other, and then he forced himself to walk out and close the door gently behind him. 

It was easy enough to get Eric to book a room. The hotel’s foyer was maintained 24/7, the kind of establishment that was used to late night, sudden arrivals from all over, including the airport. It was also easy to get a room on the ground floor, near Brian. Most people wanted higher floors, a view over all that land, so a few rooms were free. 

‘Is he okay?’ Eric said, as they threw their backpacks onto their respective single beds. 

‘Not enough to drive back tomorrow morning maybe,’ Neil said, and then consciously unclenched his jaw. ‘I’m gonna go back and check on him, are you gonna be okay?’ 

‘Do you know what time it is? I’m going to bed. I need my beauty sleep.’ Eric smiled gently and then threw himself onto the bed with an unusual amount of energy, like a child testing the springs on a new mattress. He let out a huge, audible groan of exhaustion and then settled on his back, eyes closed, breathing already spreading out into an even cadence.

Neil closed and locked the door behind him with the key and then made his way back to Brian’s room, wired and awake, physically tired but mentally fizzling and alert. 

When he walked back into Brian’s room, Brian was already waiting for him, sitting cross-legged on the bed, a couple of tissues beside him pre-emptively; waiting for the blood to come. He was still a mess, though he had obviously tried to smooth his own hair down. He looked exhausted, there were bags under his eyes, his mouth was chapped. 

He couldn’t think of anything to say and Brian didn’t seem inclined to make conversation, he just watched Neil, like he couldn’t quite figure him out. 

For something to do, Neil picked up the wastepaper bin, flimsy and made of wicker with a plastic bag inside of it, and he walked around to the other side of the bed and started throwing away Brian’s used tissues. He wasn’t grossed out by blood, but he did realise as he started picking them up, that Brian had lost a fair amount of blood from the nosebleeds. He frowned at them, and kept putting them in the bin until all that were left were the couple by Brian’s side. 

Brian’s eyes followed him as he walked around and put the wastepaper basket back. Then he sat in the single chair offered by the chest of drawers, yawned, closed his eyes. He didn’t know what he was going to do, stay in here? Talk? He didn’t know if he could sleep, regardless of what his body was telling him to do.

‘He remembered you, you know,’ Brian said, softly. ‘He talked about you, once he realised I was from the Panthers. He didn’t even remember me. God,’ Brian laughed, and the sound was broken and Neil’s eyes were open and wide and he felt frozen in time. ‘He couldn’t stop talking about you once he remembered who you were. You really were his favourite.’ 

Neil felt a burst of old pride followed by a rush of something dirty and dark all the down in his gut. It was revulsion, a filthy, lurking emotion inside of him. He couldn’t decide if it was aimed at himself, or Coach, and he didn’t know how to uproot it now that he had discovered it. He swallowed and folded his arms, felt tense. 

Brian was bitter, seemed to be in another world, he had talked to Neil, but he didn’t seem engaged. Neil didn’t know what he was supposed to do. This wasn’t his wheelhouse. He wished Wendy were here to clean them both up, shake them out and put them back on the right track.

‘He just, he just doesn’t feel _bad_ about it,’ Brian said, voice cracking. ‘He doesn’t think he did the wrong thing.’ 

Brian took several rapid, shallow breaths. He brought the tissues up pre-emptively to his nose as his shoulders shuddered, and Neil was paralysed on the chair, unable to move, feeling like if Brian wanted him closer, he’d ask for it. He could barely contain his own horror, and he didn’t have much room left in his body for Brian’s. 

‘You know, you know what he said to me?’ Brian asked, and then Neil started when he realised he was supposed to offer a response.

‘What?’ His mouth was dry. 

‘He said, ‘some kids just don’t know how to let themselves be loved like that.’ Like, like _I_ screwed up. Like I was, I was the one who. Like I just didn’t appreciate it. Like it was some _gift_ that he was-,’ Brian cut himself off, choked on his rapid breathing and then screwed his eyes shut, forced himself to take deeper breaths. So far, his nose wasn’t bleeding again, but Neil was mentally counting down without even realising it. Soon, soon, soon, he thought. And the idea that Brian had come home to this hotel room, _alone,_ Neil was angry at the whole situation. He should have come, he should have found a way to be there, he should have done more. 

‘When I think about what he did, when I think about it...’ Brian swallowed, his voice was wet, he was ignoring his tears, but Neil couldn’t look away from them. ‘The nightmares and the searching for answers and _you_ and what my life is now and how he didn’t think that he’d done _anything_ wrong and he was just sorry that he got caught and, _fuck,_ ’ Brian’s nose started bleeding again, oozing sluggish red into the tissues that he’d stuffed up close to his nostrils. Brian made another choked sound into the tissues which could have been a swear word, or some inarticulate cry of pain. 

Neil lurched off the chair, feeling sickened, tumbled upside down. Brian was hyperventilating, trying to get himself under control and failing, and Neil could see the tissues staining red, redder. 

He reached out for Brian to touch his shoulder, to offer consolation, and Brian reared back from him, eyes wild and filled with fury. 

‘ _Don’t!_ ’ he shouted, voice splintered.

Neil’s arm dropped, fear bubbled through him. He backed off, realised his own breathing was audible, calmed it. 

‘I just don’t want anyone to _touch_ me,’ Brian said, voice hard now. The look he directed Neil’s way was piercing and unforgiving, even as Neil nodded in what he hoped was understanding. 

‘I want Eric,’ Brian said suddenly, moving the tissues away, ignoring the wet blood on his upper lip. ‘I just want someone who didn’t, who wasn’t, who wasn’t a _part_ of it.’ 

Neil nodded, lost and suddenly unaccountably lonely. _But this isn’t about me,_ he told himself, and no part of him listened. He was unmoored and drifting about, too tired to know what to do. 

‘If you don’t mind,’ Brian said, retreating to that calm formality he used when he was done with a subject, ‘I would like you to leave now.’ 

Neil nodded again and staggered sideways like he’d been punched in the gut, and then straightened and walked out, closing the door behind him. He stayed there for a few moments trying to pull himself back together. He felt like he’d left important parts of himself on the floor in Brian’s hotel room. That perhaps if he just went back and picked up whatever he was missing, he’d feel more functional.

Not enough time had passed for Eric to be asleep, and he sat up when he saw Neil. 

‘He wants you,’ Neil said, before Eric could say anything. His voice was flat. 

‘What?’ Eric said, eyes widening. 

‘You heard me,’ Neil stood there, trying to think of what to do next. He wasn’t tired, he wanted to get high, get drunk, trick, something. He felt disgusting, and he didn’t know why. 

Eric’s brows furrowed and he looked at Neil hard.

‘Neil, are _you_ okay?’ 

‘I’m having a shower,’ Neil said, automatically, and disappeared into the bathroom to do just that.


	16. Chapter 16

Alone in the motel room, he felt too restless. He had assumed that he would sleep, he felt so flat, so empty, so lost, that sleep would just come and steal over him like a blanket and let him _rest._ But instead he just lay there, awake and aware of Eric a few doors down, and Brian, talking about god knew what. Talking about how monstrous Neil was back then, how monstrous Coach, how terrible it all was. 

He stared up at the ceiling. He’d fucked men in places like this one; men who were willing to pay for a decent room but unwilling to pay a decent fee. It didn’t make him feel like sleeping at all. 

Frustrated, he got up and locked the door behind him, stalked out into the late night. A few streets away he found a 24 hour diner that looked a couple of decades old. Surprisingly, given it was nearing 2.30am, there were a few people inside of it. 

He walked in and Frank Sinatra was singing cheerfully through tired speakers. There were stools along the counter and bright red-pink booths, complete with glitter in the laminate. He sat down and gazed at the menu, and realised he hadn’t eaten anything since the sundae he’d half-heartedly had with his mom. 

‘What’ll it be?’ A young woman said, midnight blue eyeshadow artfully smoked the edges of her eyes, and it reminded him so suddenly of Wendy that his heart hurt. He wanted to call her. It was too late to call anyone, and he didn’t know what he’d say. 

‘What’s good?’ he heard himself say, and decided he didn’t have time to look through the menu.

‘At this time of night, ‘bout the only thing that’s good is the burger with the lot, and fries. The meatloaf is a slab of rough-cut leather, basically, and we’re out of waffle batter and I’m not makin’ anymore, no matter how cute you are. And you’re not that cute right now, looking as tired as you do.’ 

‘Flatterer,’ Neil said, with a half-smile, and ordered the burger and fries and whatever drink she recommended. When she walked away, he let his head fall onto his forearm and closed his eyes. Tired, but not tired enough to sleep. He wasn’t even sure if he was hungry, but he knew it would be a good idea to eat something substantial. 

Once upon a time he couldn’t be fucked with good ideas, and now he was reminding himself to eat. 

A lost echo reverberated inside of him. Brian had kicked him out. He’d come hours from Hutchinson, all the way to McAlester, and for what? An extremely late night and the feeling that he wasn’t wanted in any way, not as a friend, not as a quasi-partner, not in any capacity at all. He felt like nothing more than a kid who had talked another kid into coming home with Coach. He squeezed his eyes shut and cleared his throat. The kid he’d been, that little fucking shit, was going to follow him around for the rest of his life. He was just sure of it. 

He was so _tired._

He startled when the plate was settled down in front of him. He looked up blearily at the waitress, who ruffled his hair affectionately and winked at him before sashaying off. The confidence, the familiarity, even the hair-ruffling, it all made his heart ache for Wendy. 

Numbly, he ate. The chips were good, and the burger was even better, but he didn’t care and it wasn’t like he was ever going to come back again and give them his business. Oklahoma was as much a pile of shit as Kansas was and it didn’t matter how good the food tasted. 

*

He got back to the hotel and expected to see Eric asleep on his bed, since it was so late. Instead, he was alone in a room with two beds, and stared blankly at the emptiness around him. 

Coach was here right now, in this very state, he thought. Not golden anymore, not a god, older and in jail and probably carrying jail-weight and no longer a cherished image. But still, he was here in the state. Neil’s lips thinned. He had imagined reunions when he was younger. Imagined being adopted, imagined an illicit relationship that could be legitimised when he was older and it wasn’t illegal anymore. He had imagined that one day Coach would simply say, ‘you know what, buddy? I don’t need those other kids anymore, we just have so much fun the two of us, you know?’ 

These were things he hadn’t talked to Brian, or anyone about. Even Wendy didn’t know. He had so much on his spectrum of crazy that he didn’t even know where to start. And now Coach was here, and Brian had seen him, and he wanted his old dreams of a happily ever after and wanted nothing to do with the man who had rejected him, disappeared, travelled to another town, ‘it’s just my way, little man, don’t be sad.’ And Neil even then had scoffed, ‘I’m not _sad._ ’ 

But they had both known that he was. 

Brian had said that Coach remembered him, remembered him fondly, and it sparked a small outrage inside of him. Coach left, hadn’t he? If he’d wanted to stay badly enough, he could have, and instead he’d chosen to leave. How much of a favourite could he really have been, if Coach left, moved from kid to kid after him? What was the point of that? 

The mattress wasn’t really up to his limp fall onto it, but the bed withstood his weight all the same. He pushed his head into one pillow, pulled the other over his head, and squeezed his eyes shut. They burned with tiredness, maybe with something more. He tried to tell himself he wasn’t upset, he wasn’t this person, he knew better than to be invested in people, in anyone other than Wendy. 

It was impossible to lie to himself. A small voice inside him simply said, ‘Brian’s there with Eric, and you’re not.’ 

It hurt. It was a physical pain that pressed at the front and back of his ribs, that winnowed its way through his chest. It hurt more than was fair. 

He fell asleep after gasping his way through the pain. His eyes stayed dry, but he almost wished they hadn’t. It just didn’t seem right. 

*

The ancient clock radio told him it was 7.00am when he woke up, right on the dot. Day shifts had conditioned him to wake up on round numbers and he stared with some dismay when he realised how little sleep he’d actually had. He got up and was already pissed before the day had reasonably begun. 

Eric snored quietly in the bed next to him, sprawled and still dressed, just like Neil was. His shoes hung over of the side of the mattress, as though – even now – he couldn’t bear to get them on the sheets. 

He showered and changed as quietly as possible, though he was still pissed and scrubbed hard at his scalp with his fingernails. He felt a rush of unreasonable spite when his still damp body resisted the pull of the shirt onto his body, gritted his teeth until they hurt while toeing on his sneakers. He was tired but too agitated to close his eyes and pretend he was going to be able to fall asleep again. 

He closed the door behind him and strode out for a walk, heading in no particular direction. 

The hotel door from another room opened behind him, closed again, and he heard shuffling steps. He turned and Brian was walking towards him, looking like shit, which was what Neil imagined he looked like too. 

Neil turned away without saying anything and continued to walk. He was too tired for this shit. Too angry for it. He would say something he’d regret. He felt like he was going to lose his fucking shit. He was, as Wendy would say, at the end of his goddamned tether. 

‘H-hi,’ Brian said as he caught up with Neil, coming up to walk alongside him. The whole right-hand side of Neil’s body tingled with Brian’s presence. It set his teeth on edge again, he dug his fingernails into the side of his palm. 

‘Yep,’ he replied. 

‘You’re up early,’ Brian said, still trying to make conversation. Neil didn’t even look at him as they cut across a section of neatly trimmed grass. 

‘Yep.’ 

‘A-are you going for a walk?’ 

Neil shrugged, because if he pulled his hands out of his jeans pocket he was going to be violent. He was going to shove someone or kick a door in, he was going to start yelling. He could barely contain whatever monstrosity was roiling inside of him. The tight feelings in his chest as he’d fallen asleep had become angry, poisonous snakes in the few hours he’d dreamed of Coach and Brian and all of the fucked up shit that had happened to him. He’d woken up soaked in the acid of venom. 

He certainly couldn’t manage the gentleness that Brian probably needed.

‘Would you mind if I joined you?’ Brian said, hesitant now, as he picked up on Neil’s mood.

‘Whatever,’ Neil said, clipped. 

Brian kept up and Neil scowled at him sidelong. He looked unsure, a little lost, and Neil couldn’t stop himself from thinking, how do you like it? How do _you_ like it, you little shit? And it was vindictive and mean and he knew it wasn’t fair and he couldn’t make himself stop. 

So they walked. They walked for five minutes in silence, finding their way to a suburban street and Brian occasionally casting long, thoughtful looks in Neil’s direction. 

‘Did you get any sleep?’ Brian asked, and Neil didn’t say anything in response. 

‘What was the drive like?’ Brian said, after a few more minutes had passed.

Neil wasn’t planning on replying, and besides, he was too busy wondering how many kids had been abused here in Oklahoma. How many Coach had run through, whether it was just one kid, or whether it was many kids one after the other, or whether it was a kid who was a partner in crime, who helped him recruit other kids. Like Neil.

‘Eric said you talked with your mom, h-how did that go?’ 

His jaw spasmed. Brian and his ease with difficult subjects, even now, was deeply unsettling. It reminded him of those first few days, Brian asking him about masturbation, about how often it happened, about the past, about all sorts of things that no one had ever just bluntly confronted him with before. 

Neil’s mind was hardly present when Brian laughed under his breath. He snapped back to reality and looked at Brian, who was looking ahead, looking where they were walking into the future. 

‘What?’ Neil said. 

‘I think I’ve upset you,’ Brian said, and turned his head, held Neil’s gaze for a moment, and then looked ahead again. Neil didn’t say anything. When Brian looked back, his expression had shifted from bemused, confused, to concerned. 

‘I _have_ upset you. You’re pissed at me.’ 

Neil stopped. He was not going to do this. He was not going to argue. He was going to keep it inside of himself, because if he could do anything for Brian, he was going to do that. 

‘I’m gonna head back,’ he said, turning around, ‘I need more sleep.’ 

He was no more than two quick steps away when he felt the hard fingers digging into his upper arm. 

‘No!’ Brian pulled him and Neil followed the momentum and rounded on him. 

‘ _What?_ What do you want from me?’ He glared at Brian, who took a step backwards, letting go of his arm. ‘Do you want apologies for fucking you up? Sorry for being his fucking favourite? Sorry he’s not sorry so that _someone_ can be sorry?’ 

Neil paused, drew in a ragged breath, tried not to see how much Brian’s eyes had widened. He’d been yelling, and he couldn’t seem to keep his voice down,   
couldn’t find any calm.

‘I can’t fucking fix this for you, Brian. I can’t fix anything. I’ve got _nothing._ ’ 

His breathing was hard and audible, he knew he was yelling in broad daylight and looked around to see if anyone else had stopped, was staring. But no one was out walking. And the people in their cars hadn’t stopped, still continued onto wherever they might be headed. 

‘You don’t know,’ he heard himself say, plaintive and strained with fatigue, ‘you don’t know how often I saw him, what happened between me and him. I told you what happened to _you,_ ’ and now Neil turned back and scowled at Brian’s surprise, his vulnerability. ‘I told you what happened to you and that’s _all_ you fuckin’ know. You don’t know shit. You don’t know what went down, for how long, and you want a fucking apology from me? And you want me not to touch you? To leave you alone? Is that it?’ 

Silence for a few seconds while Neil caught his breath. He was just so done with it all. 

‘That’s gonna easier than I thought it would be,’ he said, his voice finally falling to a softer volume. 

It was like closing a book that he’d finished reading. 

He walked away, and left Brian standing shocked and alone. 

*

He didn’t speak to Brian again that weekend. He caught up on sleep the rest of that morning and didn’t wake up until the early afternoon, when Eric gently shook him awake and told him that Brian was ready to head back. He looked as tired as Neil felt, and searched Neil’s face like his expression held the answers he was looking for. He wondered if Eric and Brian had talked again. He found that he didn’t much care either way. 

There were other, unrelated questions were on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t let himself ask if Brian was sure he was ready to leave, didn’t want to tell Brian that he was willing to wait a little longer, that he had taken more time off work than this, that he didn’t want Brian to feel like he had to rush. He pushed the questions down and entered a blank, hollow space where he felt almost nothing. He got up and threw handfuls of water on his face and decided that he needed to drive to take his mind off everything. 

Eric and Neil started off in Eric’s car, and Brian followed. Neil tried not to see him every time he looked in the rear-view mirror, and then he simply didn’t look in the rear-view unless he felt he had to. He said hardly anything to Eric. 

Eric ended up curling up in the passenger seat, head resting against the taut seatbelt that cut into his cheek, and dozed for a couple of hours. It wasn’t until Brian pulled over that Eric roused, groggy and pensive, a haunted quality to his eyes that Neil couldn’t place. Was that just tiredness? Was it something else? 

It turned out Brian had only pulled over to piss on the side of the road, and Neil did the same, some distance away. 

When they started again, Eric took over the wheel, preoccupied, and then it was Neil’s turn to try and catch some sleep. He curled up in the back seat, pushed his head into the fabric of the seat cover. He pretended to be asleep, but instead he was numb and awake, dreading a return to work, dreading seeing his mom again. He turned his head briefly. 

‘We should’ve called Mrs. Lackey,’ Neil said. ‘Let her know he’s alri- that he’s on his way home.’

‘Nothing to worry about,’ Eric said, voice muted and serious, ‘I did it first thing this morning.’ 

‘How do you remember to do that shit?’ 

Eric didn’t say anything for a little while, and then sighed. 

‘I don’t know. I just think about it. I think about a lot of those things, Neil. I don’t know if I could be friends with you if I didn’t.’

‘The hell does that mean?’ Neil asked, frowning. 

‘You just don’t really think about a lot of other people like that. And that’s okay. I used to think it was what made you so above it all, and so glorious, in your own way. But knowing you a little better now, I think it’s just the way you deal with things. I think you had enough to be dealing with, without having to remember to call Brian’s mom, so I decided to remember to do it.’ 

Neil lay down on his back and stared up at the roof of the car, where fabric had pulled away from the seams, and there were some food stains from god knew what.

‘For what it’s worth,’ Eric said, slowly and like he was struggling to find the right words, ‘I think that I’m getting to know you a little better these days. Living together, and this trip, and talking to Brian. And I’m sorry that you and Brian had a falling out. But, Neil,’ Eric took a deep breath, ‘surely you’re going to have arguments over this? Surely this is...what has to happen?’

‘You don’t think we should be friends?’ 

‘Just friends?’ Eric said, sweetly mocking, and then he laughed a little. ‘I like your friendship. I like hanging out with Brian. I like hanging out with you. I like hanging out with the both of you. It’s not that. What I mean is, you have a lot of things to work out. This isn’t a normal case of boy meets boy, buy fucks boy, boy falls in love with boy, boys live happily ever after. It won’t ever be that. I don’t know if you’ll ever have that, as charming and beautiful as you are.’ 

Neil shifted, uncomfortably. Eric’s crush had been endearing, once upon a time. But the crush had shifted into genuine respect and appreciation, and that was far more discomfiting. He felt like Eric was being cheated of something, and couldn’t offer him the person Eric actually thought he was.

‘You don’t have to forgive him,’ Eric said, softly, ‘I’m not saying that, I’m just saying that-’

‘Forgive _him?_ ’ Neil said, confused. 

‘You argued didn’t you? He was mean to you. He told me.’

Neil thought back to Brian saying ‘don’t touch me.’ He thought back to Brian grabbing his arm and preventing his escape. He saw nothing remotely mean in Brian’s behaviour. Persistent maybe, and willing to stick up for himself, but nothing mean. 

‘He didn’t do anything wrong,’ Neil said, though it was a difficult thing to admit.

‘He hurt you then. He told me, and I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but he told me that he was dealing with his hurt and shock at that man being awful, by putting it all on you. He said he’s put a lot on you in the past, and you’ve always taken and absorbed it. That it was one of the things he had taken for granted. I think it’s something we all take for granted, actually. Because you seem so fine and cavalier, even.’ 

‘That’s some monologue, Preston,’ Neil said, uncomfortable. He didn’t want to be okay with Brian, with whatever they had, but Eric’s words smoothed over some of the ridges and sharp edges. 

‘He said today that no one in the world probably knows all of what you’ve been through. And I think – and you’re going to scoff when you hear this – but I think that’s a lonely place to be.’ 

Neil didn’t scoff. He closed his eyes and flung his forearm over his eyes. It blotted out most of the afternoon light, and the shadows were soothing. He felt like his sense of self had been picked up and shaken, he needed to let himself settle. 

‘Neil?’ Eric said.

‘Yeah?’ 

‘Are you okay?’ 

‘Just tired,’ he said, and then turned over. To his surprise, he fell asleep soon after.

*

It wasn’t until they were almost home, after Brian had veered off towards his mom’s, that Neil sat up and took stock of his surroundings.

‘Had a good sleep, dear?’ Eric said, warm, like their previous conversation hadn’t happened at all.

‘I feel like something crapped in my mouth,’ Neil said, bluntly. 

Eric smiled at him in the rear-view mirror.

‘I guess roadtrips really aren’t your thing.’ 

*

A week passed and life found a new normal. A new normal where Brian didn’t call and he didn’t call Brian, and he went to work and tried not to think about the events of that weekend. A new normal where he could no longer just call his mom to gossip about the day’s events or any new men she was interested in, and a new normal where Eric went from being a good friend, to someone who genuinely seemed to get him as a human being, which was strange, because he wouldn’t have thought that Eric could actually be a better friend, and he was wrong.

Neil worried about Brian a lot. He wondered if his nose was still bleeding when he was scared, and how scared he was, and how often. If his mom was giving him a hard time. If he was having nightmares or able to concentrate on studying or anything like that. He wondered if Brian thought about him, and if he did, if they were angry things or fond things or worried things.

Neil’s nightmares and flashbacks continued, if anything, they were bolstered by the roadtrip and knowing exactly where Coach was even now. He was getting better at riding the flashbacks out, and though he still woke up clammy and frightened after his nightmares, Eric told him that they weren’t always as loud. But this wasn’t reassuring. The nightmares were as bad – if not worse – than ever. The flashbacks were all crippling in their own way. He couldn’t be happy that he was passing for normal more frequently in the world he occupied, when he felt further and further from it with every passing day.

So it was also easy to not succumb to the desire to contact Brian and check in on him, because he had so much of his own crap to deal with, and because his life was energy hungry. Chronic sleep deprivation meant that he sometimes had to catch ten or fifteen minutes during the day, on his lunch break or after work, and it ate into his routine. Sometimes he daydreamed yearningly of the days when he was simply a savvy, cocky teenager, and not the wreck he felt he was becoming. 

Not so long ago, after Neil’s mom had found out about everything, Brian had said that Neil was in the middle of his storm. But that they were both dealing with their own storms, their own inclement weather. It was easier to be there for someone when your own life was all metaphorically clear skies, but – Neil had realised – maybe it wasn’t always possible when both parties were in the middle of their own giant goddamned storm. 

He was too busy bailing water and trying to stay above the waves to give his energy to Brian.

He suspected Brian felt the same way.

*

Another week passed and Neil had dressed up for a change, ready to hit a new bar that was opening and queer-friendly. It had been such a long time since he’d cared about what he was wearing in that way, not that most people could tell, it was usually just a tighter shirt and nicer jeans, but still, it was clothing he hadn’t pulled out of his wardrobe in a long time. 

Eric came out of the bathroom, streaks of red and black in his hair, kohl around his eyes, wearing skinny jeans and a bright pink shirt. 

‘Jesus, Preston, could you be more of a fag?’ 

‘I contend,’ Eric said, primly, ‘that I have fucked and sucked approximately 2000 less men than you have, so, actually, it turns out I _could_ be more of a fag.’ 

Neil laughed and Eric grinned impishly and then shrugged and twirled. 

‘I might smell like hair-stripper from trying to get that old colour out, but I think this red and black might be my new thing.’ 

‘You said that when you went blue, and you said that when you decided to go natural again. You’ll change your mind in two weeks. I’ve been living with you long enough to know!’ 

But, Neil thought, he did look good with the red and the black, it suited him. But maybe that was just because the black jeans and pink shirt complemented it. Months ago he wouldn’t have cared about what complemented what, but night after night of reading Eric’s fashion magazines, textbooks and notes to help him sleep had paid off. He knew the difference between a warm and cold colour palette, knew that make-up could be sectioned off into seasons, knew that people would pay through the nose for a decent trench or pea-coat. 

There was a knock on the door and Eric went off to answer it. There had been a recent increase in the amount of Jehovah’s Witnesses and Mormons door-knocking, and Eric was able to see them off with a genuine smile. Neil snarled and slammed the door, and Eric lectured him about how people didn’t deserve that and Neil flatly said that he simply wouldn’t get the door anymore, thus adding another chore to Eric’s extensive list. 

But it wasn’t a proselytiser, it was Brian. He walked in awkwardly, past Eric and his curiosity, and stood awkwardly in the lounge. 

‘C-can we talk?’ Brian said, hesitant and soft. 

‘Uh,’ Neil said eloquently and then shrugged. Brian smiled, though the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

‘I guess I’m going solo tonight!’ Eric sang, with an almost inappropriate level of glee, likely – Neil thought – at simply seeing both of them in the same room again. ‘You would’ve cockblocked me anyway. ‘Night boys!’ 

He closed the door behind him with an excited slam, leaving the two alone.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Thank you for coming along with me on this messy journey. <3

Brian dropped his backpack to the floor, and Neil took in a long breath. He had no idea what to expect, and was surprised at the tendrils of hope that   
spread through him at seeing Brian again. He realised that though he had tried, he’d barely been able to put him out of his mind for the last two weeks. It was ridiculous. 

Dammit, he thought, he’d missed him. Actually _missed_ him.

Brian walked over and sat next to Neil at the table, the chair scraping on the lino. His hair was even scruffier than usual and needed a cut. It was small signs like this that let Neil know that Brian had probably been stressed or upset of late, that he had been neglecting himself.

Brian rested his hands on the tabletop. He stared at them, for a few seconds, as though thinking of what to say. Alongside the tendrils of hope, Neil felt tentacles of dread too. Maybe this was Brian’s formal recusal of himself from whatever friendship-relationship they had. Brian was a formal guy, he’d do something like that in person. And he did look serious enough to make a speech about how he just couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t hang out with the person who recruited him into a child molester's wet dream. 

And of course, Neil thought, that sounded really fucking fair actually. 

His own hands clenched, and Brian saw it and then looked up at Neil, making eye contact. Neil stared past his glasses at his eyes, wanted him to stay, wanted this not to be ‘the talk.’ 

Months and months ago, he would have thought he was insane for even wanting to hang out with Brian, and now it occurred to him that he might go insane if Brian walked out at this point. Even though he had every reason to. Even though Neil had secretly been expecting it all along.

‘All this time,’ Brian said, softly, not looking away, ‘I’ve been thinking about me. I’ve been thinking about what he did. What you did. How it changed my life.’ 

Neil watched, waited. Under the table, his fingers dug into his knees. 

‘Until the roadtrip, I didn’t think about you much. Outside of your role, your...’ he trailed off and then shook his head, ‘I mean I had considered it in a way, I knew that he’d hurt you, but I’d never really p-properly considered it. At first, you were just an answer to a question I didn’t want to ask. About what happened to me. And then you were another answer, to a question I’d always been curious about; about sex and feeling good and if I could.’ 

Brian looked down at his hands and frowned at them. 

‘And then you stopped being the answer, and, during that weekend in Oklahoma, I reacted badly. I’m sorry.’ 

Neil shook his head, unable to process the apology, the eloquence. The words moved through him, light blue and gentle, resting like a salve on some of the brittle parts of him. But this was a scary conversation, and he didn’t know if he wanted to have it, if he was ready. 

‘I saw my mom while you were away,’ Neil said, instead. ‘Things aren’t okay between us. I don’t know if they’ll ever be. It’s not like you and your mom. She took it personal.’ 

Brian looked up at that, pained, sympathetic. His eyes squinted in that way they did when he wished things could be different. And then his expression changed and cleared, he looked determined, focused.

‘How often did you see him, Neil? How many times?’ 

Neil – who automatically knew what he was talking about for once - opened his mouth, shook his head. A long time ago he’d said ‘that summer,’ but he couldn’t say it again. It meant a lot more, now, to give those words to Brian. Like he would maybe finally understand what that meant.

‘Seeing him again, as...as an adult, in jail, knowing he was going to be there for a long time and what he was there for...’ Brian trailed off and then laughed ruefully, ‘and that he didn’t feel guilty. He was only sorry he got caught. He wouldn’t have cared,’ Brian’s gaze pinned him to the chair, ‘he wouldn’t have cared _what_ he took from you.’ 

It had been a long time since Brian had confronted him with his own perception of their reality. Such a long time since he had been pinned and exposed like this. He reminded himself that it was only two weeks, but he realised, it had been longer than that. Brian had been dealing with so much, processing so much, it felt like he hadn’t really seen Neil since that day he’d shown up on his doorstep sweaty and exhausted after trying to pick up, and Brian had pulled emotions and tears and come from him, leaving him mute and exhausted. 

‘And,’ Brian continued, ‘Wendy once said to me that she thought people fell for you because you were charming. And it’s funny, because you’re not charming or charismatic to me. You were, before I met you. But now you’re just Neil. Fucked up Neil. But that man? _He_ was charming. You would’ve been wrapped around his little finger.’ 

Neil looked down, raised his hands above the table and rested them on the wood like Brian was doing. Within seconds, Brian scooted forward in his chair and grabbed one of Neil’s hands in his own. Brian’s palms were clammy, but his fingers were dry and warm. They provided a firm, anchoring pressure and Neil felt his chest hurt because of it. He didn’t know why his chest was hurting, only that he was starting to feel unmoored, lost again. How did Brian do it so easily? What was his secret? 

‘I’ve been thinking about it,’ Brian said, his voice gentling. ‘He gave you a father, a best friend, someone who didn’t talk down to you, a lover. He must’ve become your whole world.’ 

Neil’s eyes closed, squeezed shut. He took a deep breath, and then chased it with another. His hand shifted fretfully within the grasp of Brian’s hands, and Brian responded by stroking his wrist, by grounding him. 

‘Neil,’ Brian said, persistent and his voice full of that soul-wounding empathy that had ripped him open and exposed all his damage months ago. ‘Neil, have you ever done anything with someone that he didn’t do to you first? Or ask you to do first? Any of it? Was _any_ of it new to you, when you started doing it for money?’ 

Neil swallowed. Thought about it. 

‘Rubbers,’ he said. That was the only new thing. Rubbers and crabs. ‘That’s about it.’ 

Brian made a thin, desolate sound. Neil opened his eyes and Brian was still looking at him. His face twisted up, anguished, and Neil was startled to realise that all of that anguish was on his behalf. It unsettled him and he desperately sought out some inanimate object that didn’t make him feel the same way. The fridge was good. 

‘Do you have any idea how much he twisted you up? You couldn’t see it when we first met, first started hanging out. But what about now?’ 

Neil shook his head.

‘When me and Eric were driving up to check on you, Eric told me he’d had a crush on a guy when he was younger. I almost didn’t believe him. I thought it’d just been me. That...I was wrong somehow. Made wrong. That my soul was deformed, because I had crushes on older men, and when Coach noticed and did something about it...it was like I’d asked for it. I had the crushes first. I wanted him. I mean, I _wanted_ him.’ 

‘And now?’ 

Neil took a shuddering breath and returned Brian’s eye contact because he needed an anchor, he needed _something_ to make what he was about to say okay. 

‘I’m twisted up about it now.’ 

Brian made another noise in the back of his throat, a hurting noise, and then he moved even closer until their legs were touching. Neil was hungry for the contact. Two weeks in some kind of Brian purgatory had made him all the more aware of how much he wanted the contact, how much he just wanted to hang onto what was in front of him. He still couldn’t forget how ruined Brian had been about seeing Coach, and now he seemed okay, functional at least. 

‘I missed you,’ Brian said, and Neil nodded, because he agreed, because he felt the same way.

‘Look,’ Neil said, hoarse, ‘I’ll understand if after that weekend, you can’t, you can’t handle whatever this-’

‘What?’ Brian said, eyes widening, like the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. 

‘You said that you didn’t want to be touched by someone who, who was there. Who was involved.’ 

‘Oh, no,’ Brian said, forehead knitting, ‘no, in that moment, I just...I didn’t mean forever. Did you think I’d meant forever?’ 

Neil’s jaw clenched and he refused to say anything, because now he felt like a fucking idiot. It wasn’t that he was _sure_ Brian had meant forever, only that it had suddenly occurred to him that if he had, Neil didn’t have any ground to stand on. Not wanting to see someone because of his connection to traumatic events in Brian’s childhood made complete sense to him. 

‘No, Neil,’ Brian was saying, earnest and raw, ‘I didn’t mean that.’ 

‘Whatever.’ 

Brian squeezed Neil’s hand between his own, but the gesture only highlighted the humiliation he felt. He yanked his hand away and shoved them both back under the table. But aside from that, he couldn’t think what to do next. Instead, he stared over at the fridge again, angry at himself, at the situation. It made sense, didn’t it? The more time passed, the more he became sure that Brian should, at the very least, hate him. 

‘Neil,’ Brian implored, ‘you drove hours to come see me. You didn’t want me to go in the first place. You put my b-blood-stained tissues in a wastepaper basket and didn’t care about how disgusting it was. You left when I asked you to go. You,’ Brian was shaking his head slowly, incredulous, ‘you don’t see any of that, do you?’ 

Neil said nothing, this was not a conversation he ever expected to have with anyone. Agitation crept through him on spider’s legs. 

‘I like you,’ Brian said, ‘and I’ve, I’ve talked about how I felt about you being involved in all of that. In our past. In my, my past. I talked with a therapist about it before I saw you again. I talked to Eric about it. So I dealt with a lot of it a long time ago. I was in a b-bad space after seeing that man, but I didn’t mean... What I’m trying to say is that I’m doing better now and I’m worried about you.’

‘You shouldn’t be worried about me, I didn’t go on some dumb-fuck drive to see him,’ Neil said automatically, too shocked to even process what Brian was saying to him. Brian raised his eyebrows, bemused, and then reached for one of Neil’s hands under the table. He was so close it wasn’t that hard to do. 

‘It’s not up to you whether I worry about you, it’s up to me.’ 

Neil’s mouth slanted in a wry smile. There was that oddly formal language again, it eased him. 

Brian raised one of his hands from where he’d been clutching Neil’s, and took his glasses off. He folded them carefully compact, and then put them down precisely on the table. With those huge glasses off his face, he looked smooth and alert. The glasses gave him a strange, squinty look, as though he needed to still narrow his eyes to peer at the world behind all the glass. But when they were off, the simple, open guilelessness revealed itself. 

‘I was thinking about this before I got here,’ Brian said, and Neil had no idea what he was talking about now. Was he thinking about taking off the glasses? What? 

‘Why do you and Eric always expect me to follow your goddamned tangents?’ 

Brian looked at him hard, took a deep breath, and then leaned forwards. It took Neil only a second to realise what was happening, what Brian had decided to do. Brian’s hand covering his own clung fiercely, and a moment later, lips that were drier than they looked brushed against his. Once, twice, and then lingered. His breath was shaky, but not nearly as shaky as it had been during the past.

It was easy for Neil, surprisingly, to raise his other hand and curl it around the back of Brian’s neck. To lick his tongue slowly across Brian’s bottom lip and memorise the sharp inhale of breath. His mind cleared of cobwebs and his body cleared of agitation as he leaned forward, splaying his fingers across the back of Brian’s scalp and threading through soft hair. He tilted his head, slanted his lips across Brian’s, held the kiss in that moment. He kept his tongue inside his own mouth, remembering that it could be a particular trigger. But he hungered for it. He hungered to explore his mouth, to see what he tasted like. 

Brian pulled back an inch, and Neil kept his hand over the back of Brian’s neck, stroking back and forth, absorbing and creating warmth.

‘This is probably a bad idea,’ Neil quietly said. 

‘Uh huh,’ Brian said. He pressed back up into Neil’s hand just slightly, rising towards the touch, seeking it out. It was here that Neil found it easier to believe that Brian liked him, that they were more than their shared experiences in their childhoods. 

‘More?’ Neil asked, and there was a beat, and then Brian nodded quickly. 

‘I want it your way,’ Brian said.

‘What does that mean?’ 

‘I want you to...do it the way you’d normally do it.’ 

Neil took in a measured, slow breath, because he liked long, intense, drugging kisses. The kind that erased thought and time and left clients hurrying to get naked and himself dragging off clothing. The kind that involved taste and oxygen deprivation. He hadn’t had too many of them in his life, but he knew what he liked. 

‘Are you sure?’ Neil whispered, and then barely waited for the nod before leaning back in. 

The hand against him spasmed hard before Neil’s lips had even touched Brian’s, and Neil hummed an acknowledgement of that stress, though he didn’t stop. This might be the only time he ever got to do this, and he wanted it. Neil’s other hand smoothed a space behind Brian’s ear, and he felt the shiver where Brian’s forearm touched his skin. 

He started by pressing his closed mouth against Brian’s, it was easiest, the least threatening. And when Brian’s mouth opened against his, tentative but game, Neil opened back. It was easier than he thought. He expected Brian to pull away at any moment, at _every_ moment, but instead there was heat and pliancy, soft hair and their sweaty fingers interlacing beneath the table. 

Neil slid his tongue into Brian’s mouth like he’d done it a hundred times before. He slowly ran over his bottom lip, touched the tip of Brian’s tongue which had moved forward and then darted away like a shy creature. And Neil went seeking it out slowly, withdrawing every now and then to change the angle of his mouth, to shift Brian’s head with his palm and fingers. 

He slicked alongside Brian’s tongue, swallowing down the weak, helpless sound that he made and shifting forwards on his chair. He tasted only entirely of Brian, not of toothpaste or juice or food or anything other than savoury heat and a faintly astringent aftertaste. It was easy, then, for Neil to lose himself in the sensations of it. When Brian’s tongue began to move along his, gently curious, Neil let himself disappear in the dark wetness of Brian’s mouth and kissed him properly, the way he’d wanted to since the thought first occurred to him.

It was a fast burn after that. Brian’s hand where it clenched at Neil’s rhythmically gripped and released. And Neil was happily lost, allowing Brian’s slower responses, feeling his heavy exhales through his nose. When he pressed the tip of his tongue against the roof of Brian’s mouth, Brian jerked and then leaned forward hard, his own tongue muscling past Neil’s and finally, _finally_ – Neil thought, moved into his mouth. It was heady and amazing and Neil thought of all the ways they could take this further, all the ways he wanted to take this further, and he sucked hard on Brian’s tongue in response.

Brian jumped and pulled back, flushed, far enough that Neil let the hand that had been caressing his scalp and neck and ears and shoulders drop to his lap. Neil gazed at him hungrily, both of them breathing hard.

‘It was the sucking, wasn’t it?’ Neil said, thickly. 

Brian nodded, eyes closed tight, actively battling inner demons while Neil waited. Their sticky palms together and Brian showing no sign of wanting to let go. 

‘How was it otherwise?’ 

‘Uh,’ Brian said, deeper and darker than usual, that secret tone of voice that Neil suspected he had been one of the few people to ever hear. ‘Uh, intense. Is that, is that how you prefer to do it?’ 

Neil smiled, though Brian’s eyes were still closed.

‘I think about it a lot. It’s hot, with you.’

Brian laughed nervously, his eyes opened. His fingers twisted in Neil’s grip and he pulled away. Neil’s hand was cold where the air hit the space where Brian’s hand had been. 

‘I wish I could do it more. It just seems to be one of those things...’ Brian trailed off and looked frustrated with himself as he put his glasses back on. ‘It just seems to be one of those things that has some direct link to that part of my brain. The part that freaks out about all of this.’ 

‘It’s not like I expect more from you,’ Neil said and Brian smiled. 

He put his glasses back on, and Neil realised he had no idea when he’d get to kiss Brian again, if he’d ever get to kiss Brian again. His tongue moved around the inside of his mouth, tasting and nostalgic for what had just occurred. 

‘My nightmares got bad again,’ Brian said, folding his fingers on top of the table. ‘After that weekend.’ 

‘That sucks,’ Neil said, though his tone was more flat than empathetic. It did suck, but he just wasn’t someone to infuse his tone with sympathy in the same way that Brian and Eric and almost everyone else on the goddamned planet did. 

‘But I understand that I took a risk that would have consequences,’ Brian said, and it sounded rehearsed even though it probably wasn’t. ‘I can’t believe after all this time, I’m still so naïve about it. Thinking there’ll be a happy ending for me. Assuming that I would be able to find closure. I was so ruined by it, by everything. And I can’t stop looking for...’ Brian trailed off and looked down, stilled by reality.

Neil sighed. He opened his mouth to say something, that he knew it wasn’t that easy, that it was a little naïve, but that everyone had a right to make naïve decisions and mistakes, probably especially when they were dealing with something like this. But none of the words coalesced into sentences and he closed his mouth again. Brian didn’t seem to be waiting for him to say anything in particular, anyway. 

He found himself thinking an apology in Brian’s direction, a mental acknowledgement that he wanted it to be better, that he was sorry, that he wished he could offer more. That in his role as recruiter and victim and perpetrator, he could somehow wrap the gift of closure and offer it up, even at the expense of his own wellbeing. 

And, he realised suddenly, he loved Brian. It was something he had known for a while, but hadn’t revealed to himself in language. It had been a messy tangle of feelings before it became words. But now, with Brian’s taste still in his mouth and Brian’s sweat still coating the palm of his hand, he knew it to be profoundly true. He loved Brian, the way he loved Wendy, his mom, and even the way he knew he could one day love Eric if he allowed himself. 

But more than that, too. He didn’t know what he wanted from Brian, he wasn’t interested in exclusivity, commitment, even fucking in the classical sense. But he wanted Brian in his life, wanted him to stay, found two weeks not knowing the status of their connection to each other to be agonising.   
All of these things he didn’t know how to say.

Brian cleared his throat and Neil looked up as Brian leaned in and kissed him again. The kiss was open-mouthed but more chaste than before, and yet still intense. Neil opened his own mouth and opened his eyes, searched Brian’s half-lidded eyes for something similar to his own feelings. Realised he couldn’t read a person’s mind. 

Brian withdrew and offered a tentative smile. 

‘I suppose we should watch a movie or something before I actually freak out,’ he said, hesitantly, and Neil grinned.

‘Yeah, probably.’ 

*

That weekend he had Sunday off, and he went to visit Brian at home. Mrs Lackey was home, and after about half an hour of sitting next to them so that they were all awkwardly watching television together, she offered to make them lunch. Brian offered to help. And that was how Neil found himself leaning uncomfortably against the doorframe, watching the two Lackeys go about making sandwiches with a mystery meat that he couldn’t even begin to identify. He remembered Brian once mentioning that they ate turtle when they could get it. It wasn’t like it really bothered him anyway. He had an idea of what went into the ground chuck that made the burgers where he worked, he wasn’t squeamish about food. 

‘Will you go hang out some washing on the line?’ Mrs Lackey said to Brian, who looked at Neil quickly, like he didn’t want to leave him alone. She huffed impatiently. ‘There’s hardly anything in the basket, for God’s sake. It’ll take you not more than five minutes.’ 

Brian left and Mrs Lackey gestured for Neil to step forwards. 

‘Come on, you can do some of these dishes. We pull together in this house.’ 

Neil stepped forward. He wanted to say things like he would have been happy to do the dishes but there didn’t seem to be enough room for him when Brian and Mrs Lackey were both by the sink, but decided it wasn’t worth it. He still didn’t know how to read Mrs Lackey, had barely spoken to her, tried to avoid anything that resembled chatting. He didn’t make conversation as he started working on the dishes, the right hand side of his body was painfully aware of his presence. 

‘I think you’re going to hurt my son,’ she said after a couple of minutes. Neil’s hand slipped and he just managed to catch the plate that would have clattered back into the sink. He looked at her, and she was staring at him, hawk-eyed, vigilant. 

‘He’s a smart kid. He can take care of himself,’ Neil said, quietly. She looked at him, assessing, and then frowned. 

‘Never thought you’d amount to much, and now you’re the manager of a store, aren’t you?’ 

‘Supervisor,’ Neil corrected. He was a long way from being manager material, he was sure. 

‘That’s pretty close to management. You should get them to send you on a course.’ 

He smiled absently, he hadn’t ever really considered it. He had found it so hard to start delegating to staff, he couldn’t imagine managing an entire store, being in charge of hiring and firing. Would he look at a dumb shit like himself and hire him? Probably not. 

‘You and your mom doing okay?’ she said, her voice curious and concerned now, even though it still had just as many hard edges as ever. It was the way the tone of her voice dropped into the lower registers, he decided. She expressed a lot through octave, the same way that Brian could. 

He didn’t reply because he didn’t know what to say. He and his mom were not going okay, but it looked like they were on the surface. He knew his mom felt alienated around him, and he knew that he felt as alienated around her as ever, and the façade he had maintained was no longer comforting. He knew things would never be the same again. He couldn’t begin to wrap his head around it. 

She sighed. It was a simple sound, but it made his heart hurt. He turned to her to say something, but couldn’t think of anything to say. 

‘I never thanked you for going out to see Brian like that, to help him. I would’ve gone myself, but, well, he’s never liked me smothering him.’ 

Neil watched her warily, and her expression softened. 

‘You know you could just say ‘you’re welcome.’ 

‘You’re welcome,’ Neil managed faintly, feeling stupid and out of place. He startled when she clapped a hand friendlily on the shoulder. A moment later she handed him a plate of sandwiches, and Brian walked in as though he could somehow sense when the awkward conversation was over and the food was ready.

‘Thanks, Mom!’ he said, and practically herded Neil back into the lounge. They sat down and Brian raised his eyebrows inquiringly at Neil. Neil simply shrugged. The conversation, all in all, hadn’t been that bad. As for hurting Brian, well, they did that to each other all the time didn’t they? They’d learned how to manage as best as they possibly could. 

*

Later, she went off to work for an afternoon and evening shift. They had both ended up napping on the couch, finding it easy to simply rest in each other’s presence. And after that, they went up to Brian’s room. 

Brian talked about how obsessed he used to be with UFO’s and aliens, how they were all over his walls, how he was pretty good at constellations and elements of astronomy as a result. 

‘I even considered, you know, doing it at a college level. I thought maybe I’d spend my life as some kind of UFO hunter. I’ll never not believe in them. I just think the role of aliens in my life is, you know, not what it used to be.’ 

They were both lying down on the bed. A notepad filled with Brian’s sketches lay next to Neil, who had thumbed through them marvelling at his skill and intelligence and feeling a little envious that he had never put a single creative thing into the world. 

‘So what do you want to do now? We could go down to the park. Watch a movie?’ 

‘We could make out?’ Neil said, just as conversationally. 

Brian laughed through his nose, surprised. And then he turned to Neil and pursed his lips, he was seriously thinking about it. A moment later, he nodded, expression sobering, though a twinkle still remained in his eyes.

‘You should check the top drawer,’ Brian said, shy. 

He twisted over and pulled open the drawer, and his eyes widened when he saw a tube of lubricant.

‘How?’ Neil said, as he dropped it on top of the chest of drawers, ‘how did you grow the balls to get that?’

‘You’ve complained about it in the past, not having any on hand here.’ 

‘You tried it? On yourself?’ Neil said, feeling that heavy weight in his gut shoot straight to his dick, thinking about Brian wrapping slick fingers around himself, taking himself in hand. Brian, however, shook his head. 

‘N-not yet.’ 

Neil ignored it for the time being and pushed Brian back on the bed, splayed fingers under his shirt and listened to the now-familiar hitches and exhales. Brian’s torso was hot under his palms, and he looked down at him hungrily as he mapped the skin. He’d never considered that he would be capable of sensuality in the past, but he also would never have considered himself capable of a typical job, or that he would survive his mom finding out what happened to him. 

He pulled up at Brian’s shirt and Brian’s eyes widened when he realised what Neil wanted. He moved sideways a little and took his own shirt off, and bit his bottom lip nervously when Neil scratched his fingertips through a small smattering of chest hair. A moment later, he shucked his own shirt and threw it to the ground.

‘W-we haven’t done this before. Taking everything off properly.’ 

Neil paused for a moment and wondered if Brian was trying to say that they should stop. But Brian was the kind of person who would normally just say so, and maybe he was just observing something that made him uncomfortable. That wasn’t often a signal for ‘no’ from Brian, and he’d learned to trust in Brian’s ability to call it quits when necessary. 

‘Take ‘em off,’ Neil said, indicating Brian’s pants, and Brian’s eyes widened. ‘We’re not going to fuck, it’s just better this way.’ 

‘We should maybe do this on the sheets. Dirty sheets are easier to clean than a messy-’

‘So do it,’ Neil said, teasing. Brian shot Neil a curious look as he slid off the bed and pulled the quilt and blankets back, and Neil ignored him as he kicked off his jeans, his briefs. He was comfortable with his own nakedness. He wasn’t ashamed of his nudity and he wasn’t about to start now. He turned back to Brian and then lay down on the bed, his back on the sheets, head resting on the pillows. 

Brian was much slower about taking his pants off, and pulled off his boxers with his back facing Neil. 

‘We can pull the blankets back over us, but it’ll get hot,’ Neil said, matter-of-fact, trying to offer an olive branch. 

Brian turned back, hands fisted at his side, looking like he was determined not to hide himself. He was still soft, but that didn’t bother Neil at all. They had plenty of time ahead of them, and this was new for Brian. It still surprised Neil that Brian didn’t say ‘no’ all the time. 

‘What do I do?’ Brian said, innocent, and Neil took some pity on him.

‘Straddle me. Here,’ Neil said, pointing at his upper thighs. ‘And then pull the blankets over us.’ 

Brian did not have the same easy eloquence with his body that Neil did, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hot being straddled by him, or feeling his body heat in close proximity. Skin against skin, the blankets being tugged over them and Neil reaching up to help them settle, Neil was struck again with a shot of affection. It left him breathless. He was almost certain bullets had less impact.

‘Relax,’ Neil added, and felt the muscles in Brian’s thighs give and settle as he leaned over Neil, braced himself, looked down at Neil’s face.

‘This is new,’ he said.

‘Yep.’

‘It’s not bad,’ he added. ‘I do like the part where I’m on top.’

Neil snorted with laughter, because this was becoming an increasingly unsurprising fact about Brian; he liked to be on top. With more confidence behind him and a better understanding of his own body and Neil’s, he took charge more often, and initiated more frequently. It had been strange, at first, because he’d stereotyped Brian into a completely different category. But then as he learned more about the guy’s steel backbone and his stubbornness and his willingness to face a lot of issues head on, he figured it wasn’t that weird after all.

Brian ran his hands over Neil’s torso, up over his collarbone and shoulders, down his upper arms. Neil shivered a little bit, started getting hard again, smoothed his own palms over Brian’s thighs. Turned his head and kissed a section of Brian’s forearm that came within reach, and then licked when Brian paused and let him. 

‘No clothes at all,’ Brian said, ‘it’s weird.’ 

‘Has its perks.’ Neil arched upwards and pulled Brian down by a shoulder and licked a stripe across his chest as their hips shifted against each other. Brian made a shocked sound when their dicks touched. Neil opened his mouth to explain, to suggest something, but Brian’s hand had already shot out towards the lube. Neil watched him as he squeezed some of the clear gel onto his fingers. He shifted and leaned more heavily on his left shoulder as he reached between them, and when he felt Brian’s fingers and coldish lube slick over him, he bit off a groan. Brian’s hands were artist’s hands, they were dexterous and knowing, even without much experience.

‘Fuck,’ Neil breathed, and Brian nodded, but didn’t reply. 

It took a while to get the angle right, but Brian was fully hard by the time he anchored both their dicks together with his hand and thrust, exhaling hard. And then he paused, nuzzled at Neil’s neck.

‘I didn’t expect you to let me take the lead,’ he said, honest and voice thick with want. 

Neil shifted his hips and groaned as the small movement teased at him, warmed him. 

‘This used to be easy, this shit. But it’s not so easy now, so it’s, someone else having the lead can be okay. And it’s something I like doing with you. Also, my track record with this stuff is freaking out. I’m fucked up, I guess. I have no idea what I’m saying.’ 

Brian laughed breathily into Neil’s neck, which tickled. He was becoming more free with his laughter now, sharing it as often with Neil as he did with Eric. 

‘I don’t know about you, but I have a good record with dealing with freak outs. I’m usually the one dealing them out to others. And I like this,’ he thrust forward again, and then again, and Neil’s eyes squeezed shut and focused on breathing, because he didn’t think he’d take long. ‘I like _us._ I-uh, I don’t know if it’ll last. Sometimes I don’t know how it could. But right now, like this,’ Brian lifted his face and pressed his cheek against Neil’s, let his breath move over Neil’s ear, something that he wouldn’t stop doing now that he knew how much Neil liked it. ‘Like this, it’s more than I ever thought I’d have.’

Neil opened his mouth to say something about how that sounded like romantic bullshit, for all that he liked hearing it. But in that moment, Brian’s hand around them both tightened, and he began moving in earnest. He also lifted up a little, so he could look at Neil’s face as he moved, eyes searching him, wide with some emotion that Neil couldn’t pin.

One of Neil’s hands found its way to hook over Brian’s shoulder, and the other stroked his back firmly, over and over again. But it was the eye contact that felt the most intimate, since Neil found that he couldn’t look away, and Brian wasn’t either. That almost horrible weight of care spread through his chest like some disease, heavy and as thrilling as the knowledge he was going to come soon.

Brian’s eyes were searching his, and then suddenly widened. He inhaled so sharply that Neil thought he was going to come, but instead he inhaled again, and again, sounding more like he was close to panicking. 

‘What is it?’ Neil said.

‘N-nothing,’ Brian said, his rhythm still fast and measured, Neil still rising to meet him.

‘Christ, are you sure?’ 

‘Honest,’ Brian breathed, returning his eyes to Neil’s and offering a hesitant smile. 

About thirty seconds before he was about to come, Neil realised with a shock that this was probably the most mature, consensual sexual encounter he’d ever had. It filled him with a rush of wonder, like lukewarm water tickling him underneath his skin, and it raised goosebumps all over his body. So it turned out there were still new things to experience, things that Coach hadn’t done and he hadn’t discovered for himself in his line of work.

And it was that realisation that sent him hurtling over the edge.

‘Fuck,’ he choked, as he slammed into orgasm far harder and sooner than he’d expected. At that point he had to squeeze his eyes shut, he arched hard, and Brian’s forehead dropped heavily onto Neil’s shoulder as he moved his hand faster and came shortly afterwards, breath hissing out of him, hips jerking. 

He shuddered in Neil’s arms for a minute, and then moved over and lay on his back next to Neil, reaching blindly for the tissues with the ease of someone who had probably needed to know where the tissue box was at all times, due to the frequency of nightmare-induced blood noses. He handed a wad of tissues to Neil, and then cleaned himself up. Neil shifted over so that Brian had more room alongside him, and kicked one of his legs out from underneath the blankets and quilt so that he could start to cool down.

‘Why do you have so many things on your bed, anyway?’ Neil said, voice still hoarse, throat scraped.

‘I like it that way,’ Brian said, simply.

‘What was that, earlier? Your freak-out? Are you okay?’ 

Brian turned and looked at Neil searchingly. 

‘Are you freaking out?’ 

Neil stared at the ceiling as he thought about it. Aside from a vagueness pressing at his awareness, and a sense of weight now anchoring him to Brian, he felt okay. But he’d reached a point where feeling okay after coming felt weird, so he didn’t know what he truly felt, or what was actually going on. In the end he just shrugged.

Brian nodded like it was a meaningful response, and then curled on his side and yawned deeply. Without intending to, they both fell asleep easily and quickly. 

*

Weeks passed and things grew and changed and settled and expanded. They were friends and sometimes lovers and sometimes antagonists in their own mutual storyline. One Thursday night they were at Neil’s, and Eric was in some kind of sleep coma on the couch. Brian was getting ready to head home, putting his journal into his backpack and taking his time about it. It was on an impulse that Neil suddenly opened his bottom drawer, took the cassette out and handed it to him, breathing already turning shaky. 

‘Take it. Don’t...throw it away yet. Just, take it.’ He ignored the rattling ache in his stomach as Brian took the tape and folded his fingers carefully around it. His stared at it like it was poison, and then looked at Neil confused.

‘Are you sure?’ 

‘No. So don’t throw it away.’ 

An easy day suddenly zinged with tension. Neil stared at the cassette and wanted to snatch it back. And Brian was now cradling it in both hands, as though it was both radioactive and precious, something that should not be dropped or accepted.

‘Uh, sure, sure, okay,’ Brian finally managed, and then gently put it in the front pocket of his backpack. 

Neil folded his arms, feeling belligerent, accountable, awful.

‘A part of me is always gonna feel something for him,’ he said, accusing. Brian stood and offered acceptance, practically _radiated_ it. Neil had no idea how he did it, it didn’t look like he was standing any different, and his expression was the same as almost always, but somehow there was just something there which made it okay. Made his ability to create fraught situations okay. 

‘I’d never felt special like that before. I’d never been able to make someone that happy,’ he added, feeling like he owed Brian more of an explanation. 

Brian didn’t say anything, and Neil searched in himself for words that were once elusive, and now appeared easily, as though they had been there all along.

‘I realise it wasn’t, you know, me. He just loved kids our age and I was his favourite because I was so fucking available. Or whatever.’ 

He swallowed around a rawness in his throat. Brian looked down at his backpack, as though he could see the cassette through it. 

‘Maybe a part of him really did like you, Neil,’ he said to the backpack. 

Neil sat down on the edge of his bed and laced his fingers together. He had been feeling increasingly like he was just tired of guilt; guilt for not being caring or compassionate enough, guilt for what he’d done to his mom and what he’d done to Brian. Guilt was his constant companion, moreso than anyone else had ever been, and invisible enough that he’d hardly noticed it was there for the longest time. It stole his words and his sentences, it burned him out from the inside, it turned him into a black hole, a vortex. He was so empty from it, he would have spent the rest of his life using people, himself, drugs, alcohol, sex, anything to hide from it.

‘I wouldn’t have gotten the job I did, or moved out, or any of that shit, if it weren’t for you,’ Neil said, looking down at his hands, the long, slender fingers, the myriad of tiny scars from years of not looking after himself. ‘I mean, eventually, maybe. But I dunno. When I came back to Hutchinson, I wasn’t, I wasn’t expecting to live for very long. I didn’t have anything planned. It’s not like I planned to do it. I just also never expected to live long. Maybe the virus. An overdose. Murder. Something.’ 

He didn’t look up when Brian’s breathing hitched at his words, at the shuddery exhale. He didn’t look up when Brian sat on the bed next to him, close by, and then closer as he made the inches between them disappear so that they were touching.

‘And it’s not like I’m pathetically grateful, or anything, because you kind of made my life, _make_ my life hell sometimes. You don’t give up. Ever. You’re pushy and stubborn and kind of bossy like your mom and people think you’re meek and it makes me fuckin’ laugh. I mean, Eric thinks you’re cute.’ 

Brian pushed his shoulder into Neil’s, rocking him.

‘You don’t think I’m cute?’ 

‘Not cute like some goddamn baby bird that needs protecting, I don’t.’ 

‘Oh,’ Brian said, pushing into Neil again, sweetly.

‘But, I am kinda grateful. I can’t decide if my life is better now, or just as fucked up before, just maybe now in a different way. But sometimes it feels better, with you.’

He wasn’t ready yet, he wasn’t ready to say ‘I love you.’ And if Brian couldn’t tell that he did by now, then maybe he would never be ready. If he couldn’t tell from Neil’s offering up the cassette to him, in giving that to him and asking him to take it and trusting him with that part of himself, then maybe Brian wouldn’t understand Neil’s love, what it looked like and felt like. Neil hardly understood it himself. 

‘I’m grateful too,’ Brian said softly. 

‘Yeah?’ 

‘I-I don’t know what the future will bring, for me, or for...us. But yeah, it’s funny, I am grateful. I’m,’ Brian laughed a little, ‘I’m still having nightmares and everything from here to the horizon looks, I think, broken. So how did you become one of the least broken parts of it? I hardly know. And I’ve stopped trying to figure it out. You let me be myself, and that’s, I _know_ that’s hard, because I don’t know who or what I am. I was, closed, for so long. I am bossy and stubborn and kind of a shit, and you let me learn that about myself, and let it be okay. And you, with your stubbornness, taught me that it could be a kind of strength to be stubborn.’ 

Neil hid a smile, as Brian rested his head against his shoulder.

‘And you gave me the tape. I think I know what that means.’

‘Yeah?’ Neil said, sceptical, and Brian nodded against his shoulder.

‘Yeah, I think I do. And, this is pretty sappy for us. Isn’t it?’ 

‘I fucking hate it,’ Neil said, on a laugh. 

‘Well, we can change the subject then. Do you have work tomorrow? Will we catch up again soon?’ 

‘Tuesday? Might be a bit late, I wanted to stay back and talk to the boss about maybe doing some management. Your mom suggested it, and I thought...’

‘I can see it,’ Brian said, dreamily, ‘I can see you being a manager. I hope it goes well, anyway. Tuesday is good for me.’ 

_Good,_ Neil thought, resting his own head against Brian’s, finding one of his hands with his own and warming it. 

Like Brian, when he looked into the future, everything on the horizon looked broken. He could not reconcile who he was on the inside, what had happened, with any kind of positive outlook. He couldn’t promise Brian that he’d always be there for him and he couldn’t even promise himself that he’d try and live a decent life. Every now and then darker pathways whispered, and he yearned for drugs and picking up the worst kind of clients so that his internal vortex could finally just suck him up whole, and he’d never be conscious, or alive, again. 

But with Brian’s fluffy hair pressed up against his ear, and both of them breathing side by side, he didn’t need the promise of an unbroken future. He squeezed Brian’s hand in his own and Brian squeezed back. The present would have to be enough.


End file.
